Special, Just Like Everyone Else
by Icy Flame
Summary: The Marchwarden is looking for a bride, Mirkwood's youngest is looking for a partner. When they meet will sparks fly from romance...or blades?
1. Orcs, Arrows and Swords

_Special_, Just Like Everyone Else

Summary: The Marchwarden of Lothlórien is looking for a bride, the King of Mirkwood is throwing his youngest's "coming out" party. When these two meet will the sparks fly from romance or blades? 

Warnings: Oocness (a give in fan fiction), Mpreg., hilariously inappropriate humor!

Couples: Haldir/Legolas

Disclaimer: Uh if you actually believe that the LotR characters are mine then I doubt you'll have the wits to do anything about it when your reality crashes down and you realize I don't. *grins* 

Note: I'll only say this once, sorry for any grammar/spelling or incorrect information. Tell me in a review and I'll try to fix it _but_ only if you say it nicely! I have a fragile ego! *whimpers*

ALSO- I was inspired by Kaiyoz, who wrote "The Difference Between Love and Marriage", a lovely piece that I recommend everyone read. This is without her permission (I don't know her email) but I have post a review in one of her fics telling her I doing this! Anyways I'm totally dedicating this fic to her and all Haldir/Legolas fans!

Block, thrust, strike, kill, twist, block, thrust, block, strike, block, thrust, rotate, kill, turn and repeat. The sword moved with a will of its own, twisting and slashing through the air as it sliced down and into orc flesh. The putrid creature howled as the elven blade carved into his body, black blood welled up from the wound. The orc heaved its thick blade at the elven warrior once more, succeeding in leaving an opening for said warrior to attack. With the opportune moment upon him, the Marchwarden of Lothlórien thrust his sword into the orc's chest, turning before the beast even hit the ground to attack his next opponent.

Grasping two arrows from his quiver he placed them in position on his bow and fired off the two shots, hitting each target successfully. Taking two arrows again, the Marchwarden aimed for a farther target and let loose. A _toow_ sound echoed his bow's use, each shot hitting the target.

As an orc lunged at him from the side he spun and slashed at the creature. He moved to grab more ammo for his bow, only to swipe thin air; letting out an undignified snort he returned his arm to his side. Instead of his bow, he now grabbed his ax, flinging it into the distance at an orc who was getting too close for his comfort.

The orcs fell in a hasty speed, elven blades slashing in and out of the beasts' flesh in the flick of an eye. The Marchwarden of Lothlórien flashed by the Lord and Lady as he took out four more of the enemy. 

They had been journeying to Mirkwood for the celebration when a horde of orcs fell upon them. Thankfully there was a party of warriors traveling with the Lord and Lady in order to join in for the coming out of Mirkwood's royalties youngest coming in full maturity. 

His sword found its place in an orc chest and soon after was swung to take off another's head. Dashing forward with an elven speed, he blocked a strike made by another of the horrid beasts. Thrusting his blade at the orc he was annoyed to find it blocked, turning slightly and attacking once more he accomplished in getting past the monster's defenses.

Ignoring the sweat that trickled down his chiseled features, the Marchwarden sped up the tempo of battle by charging a large group of the enemy. Roaring out a battle cry and using a velocity unseen by the proficient warrior prior he attacked the orcs with a passion. In fighting, the elf was really able to outshine his companions; parrying a jab made he struck the adversary down with a few well-placed moves.

Growling obscenities about lazy scouts, the Marchwarden of Lothlórien took up his sword to defend his Lord and Lady once more. Black ooze slid down his blade as he cut into another of the repulsive creatures closing in on the horses. A downward motion with his weapon took down an extra. His breathing was labored as he searched around for more of the enemy. Finding none he concentrated on slowing his heartbeat.

Signaling for his second in command to come forward he instructed for a party of warriors to stay behind and burn the orc bodies. 

"And upon arrival to Mirkwood, see that the scouts are sent directly to myself; I will not be made a fool of there." The other elf, use to the Marchwarden's severe manner nodded and moved on to take care of his orders.

After the job was complete the remaining elves would rejoin the main party in Mirkwood. Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel were to meet with the King of Mirkwood, Thranduil. The celebration of the coming out of his youngest was the main concern.

As he reached down to grab his ax out of the orc he'd killed with it, the Marchwarden pondered the reasoning behind the celebration. The lord of Mirkwood was neither known for his charisma nor his hospitable attitudes. The opinions of most concerning Mirkwood's king was that of a cold-hearted tyrant. Having never ventured to the darker woods himself, the Marchwarden was unable to form an opinion of the ruler and was thus unable to devise why the coming out of such would draw such a crowd. Wiping clean his ax and blade he returned the weapons to their previous locations.

"Our path is once more safe, my Lord."

"Let our journey continue Marchwarden, our halt here has diverted us much too long."

The party dispatched a few warriors to take care of the remains, as the rest of Lórien's party moved forward to Mirkwood. The voyage had taken several weeks already; it was the longest he had ever travelled for a coming out party. Perhaps second only to that of Elladan and Elrohir's. His Lord and Lady had come from Lothlórien to Rivendell, though; it had been a big ordeal, for elves seldom gave birth to more than one and even fewer gave birth to a carrier.

It had been a joyous occasion, as a carrier or maternal elf was very rare indeed. The race of elves was an ancient and elusive one; unfortunately they did not have the capabilities that were afforded men with procreation. 'All' females did not come quipped with the abilities. It is said that an enchantment can be uttered to bring about the ability to carry, but it must be done before the first breath of a newborn. There have been a few mentions of males being able to take over the role of a female in reproduction. Being a recessive trait in elves, very few even had the potential naturally.

When Elrond produced not only twins but also one with the maternal ability, he was battered with constant suitors for his son. It had gone on for three days before Elrond announced in a deadly calm that his sons would both remain unattached for the two thousand years until maturity. This did not stop some very determined suitors for settling down in Rivendell. That had been just a decade before the youngest in Mirkwood's birth, close to the twins, was herald with the death of the mother, the Queen. So much concern had taken over the death of the much beloved ruler that the news of the youngest had been subdued and not announced as thoroughly as was custom.

An elf did not reach full maturation until they were at least one thousand years old. Due to the complex formation of a maternal elf, though, they matured at a much slower rate. It took twice as long as the average elf, more often than not though these precious ones did not make it to the age. 

In the later Ages, once it was discovered that they did not reach their full potential until two thousand years, they were being cared and protected diligently. A few cases of rape and battery had reached the ears of the Lords and Ladies leading to the laws against treachery on the maternal elves available. An unwed maternal elf was guarded around the clock due to the sensitive nature of their physiology. More often than not, carriers would be secluded from the male population altogether. These maternal elves were treated as rarity that even elves did not often see in their times.

The coming out of a maternal was a great celebration that lasted for weeks. Elladan's had continued for two months, his brother coming out at the same time. It was a difficult time for Lord Elrond, who was responsible for the future of his sons. With a great deal of deliberation he had decided to allow his sons to choose their own mates. That had been the cause of even more an uproar. Even now, ten years after their coming out, the two were still unattached. This was not uncommon.

Due to an elves lifespan, the choosing of a life partner was to be decided carefully. A rash decision was often the cause of many battles and harsh feelings. In fact, seven thousand and eighty-nine years ago the Mirkwood prince had left a Rivendell princess and had left the rivaling kingdoms as bitter contenders. Later, around nine hundred and seventy-four years, each had married into the Lórien kingdom; allowing a fragile serenity to come between the two kingdoms.

They were still a half a day's journey from the kingdom when they had been attacked. There had been news of orcs attacking the borders of Mirkwood but this had been unexpected. Obviously, it was more of a problem then they had been lead on to believe. Perhaps, this was in truth the reasoning behind the celebration; Thranduil, in hopes of gaining a few allies, would offer his youngest at the reward. It made sense, and was often carried out by the royals. The Marchwarden was so caught up in his thoughts that the arrival of another party startled him and his horse as he jerked back on the reigns. Due to the scouts lack of…duty he had taken over the post.

"We seem to have some more visitors, my Lord."

Ok this is my first piece I've written as a seventeen-year-old! *squeal* Today is my birthday! I just turned seventeen! I was so happy I got right to work on this! I wanted to post something special for my birthday and at first was like "I should post seventeen stories" and then reality kicked in and I realized there was no way in hell I could come up with that much work! Soooo you lucky people get this lil teaser for my very first posted Lord of the Rings piece!

Later yo,

Icy


	2. Not a spider spider

Special, Just Like Everyone Else

Author: Icy

Ch.1

~~~

The Marchwarden attempted to get a clearer view of the approaching group. Nudging his horse into a quicker gait, he squinted at the crowd. The short distance between the two stunned the Marchwarden, how could they have gotten so close without alerting him? There was no possible way that orcs could use such stealth. As the distance between them shrank the other party became clearer. It was a fairly large group, not as large as the last group of orcs but they seemed to be more organized. Instead of approaching in a mob, this crowd was following in neat and orderly lines. Gazing over the rows he spotted a banner carrier, looking up the pole he peered at the strip of cloth. The banner looked familiar, but it was too detailed to be the work of orcs. 

"A Mirkwood party advances."

"As I thought if you would be so kind Marchwarden." Celeborn turned to his Lady, smiling softly at her. Noticing the stare she looked to her partner, returning his smile, she blushed lightly and looked down. 

The parties were in viewing distance when the leader of the group moved forward. It was a tall blonde; several notches on his uniform marked him as a general. The Marchwarden moved forward to intercept the general.

"I do hope your travels have been peaceful." The phrase seemed more of a prayer than a statement and made the Lothlórien elf feel bitter. They indeed had not had a peaceful journey, and had hardly been prepared to take on orcs. If not for the barrage of hopeful suitors that traveled with the Lord and Lady, it is doubtful the orcs would have lost. He turned from the general sulky.

"Our arrival was heralded by orcs," the silver haired Marchwarden continued cynically, "it seems that the Mirkwoods were not as safe as we were told. _I do hope_ not all we heard follows the same continence, general."

The general seemed taken back from the reply. The thinly veil disgust in the Marchwarden's statement was not often shared in first meetings. Elves were not perfect, they had their faults, similar to every other race but it never occurred to the general why elves were looked upon as prideful, that was until he met this elf. Arrogance poured off him in waves, the conceited attitude would dismay a lesser elf easily but the general was no simple solider. No, he was Tathar Calmcacil, sixth son of King Thranduil. He had been sent by his father to guide the Lórien assembly, incase orcs tried to attack. His father would not be pleased to hear that his band had reached them _after_ an attack. Things were already off to a bad start, trying to salvage the situation he smiled winningly at the group.

"Lord Celeborn, Lady Galadriel it is a pleasure to meet you at long last. King Thranduil welcomes those of Lórien, he has arranged for your party, but if it would be possible to collect any petitioners for the hand of the King's youngest to send forward their submissions to my lieutenant," he gestured to another male elf, who stared icily at the Lórien elves. 

He looked regretfully as the slips of parchment came to him. Lord Celeborn demounted his steed and gracefully stepped over to the lieutenant, handing her a rather large parchment. The elf eyed him questionably, switching his gaze between Celeborn and his Lady but received no answers. A hand landed on his shoulder and he turned to Tathar and saw his soothing smile.

"Do not worry for him, this shall be yet a drop in the ocean." This seemed to have the desired effect, as the elf bowed to the Lord and Lady before remounting. Turning he gave a cry and broke from the group. His steed raced forward, surging into the distance.

"Lord Celeborn, Lady Galadriel our path is but a few hours journey from here."

"Then let us tarry no longer, lead the way General…" "Tathar Calmcacil, lord." "General Calmcacil. My Lady grows weary of this passage." 

Tathar turned his horse around and gave orders for his elves to surround the Lórien party. As they moved forward the Mirkwood elves searched the woods for any sign of an ambush. It was not uncommon for a league of orcs to send a portion of their soldiers ahead and then to catch their prey off guard with a second wave of attacks. It was oddly complicated strategy, for orcs. Their intelligence wasn't their strong point, and so any use of wits was oddly suspicious. It had been whispered around the barracks of late that an old enemy of the Wood-elves had come to extract revenge from the latest king and the orcs were merely his pawns. Upon mention from the King, anyone caught "whispering" these things was sent to the dungeons for a decade. Nonetheless the damage was done. Seeds of fear had settled in the minds of the of the Mirkwood populace. As a member of the royal family, Tathar was not allowed to participate in the discussions of this rumor, especially after his father strictly forbade it. 

One did not cross the King; since the death of his mate his temper had taken a turn for the worse. His foul rage was absent only with his youngest son's presence. Legolas Greenleaf was the youngest son of Thranduil, and the only thing that remained of his Queen. Little Greenleaf was without a doubt his father's favorite child. It wasn't without reason then that his Little Leaf was protected around the clock by the fiercest of creatures.

On one of the few outings that the Prince had been allowed to take a baby spider was found, abandoned. A friend of the prince snatched up the small spider before the guards saw it and squashed the tiny creature. Later after Legolas received his new pet, "Gwibess" the King had been furious but relented and agreed after negotiating that it must be trained. Thranduil was said to have smiled and mutter something about the Queen always collecting stray animals before patting his cherub youngster on the head. The spider had grown to become the Prince's staunches defender. Legolas, always guarded by his loyal spider was rarely let out of the palace yard, and as extensive as it was to cage an elf so hurt the youngling. Occasionally the young elf escaped from the palace and put the kingdom in an uproar until he was found. Tathar frowned, he was close to his brother, most were due to the Prince's sweet disposition, and it saddened him to have to watch his younger brother yearn for the woods-the trees. 

Turning from his depressed thoughts, the general looked upon happier things. Finally his brother would be free. Hopefully this gathering would provide him with a mate and an escape Mirkwood's constant protection. Perhaps he would even move to a more peaceful land. Mirkwood elves were bred to be warriors. They were trained for a century before being permitted to join the army. Upon passing the final tests an elf was aloud to braid their tresses in the traditional warrior's braid. It was a complicated style, with many twists and weaves, leaving many coils and plaits in the hair. It was one of the highest honors an elf could have. Depending on the amount of braids you had, you could marry only certain ranks. To court an elf of the royal family you had to have seven intertwined braids. Each kingdom of course had their own traditions for warriors and marriage rights. Few were as extensive as Mirkwood's. Tathar's thoughts turned to his own mate, his lieutenant. 

He had eight warrior braids and was of the Mirkwood kingdom. There had been several tasks and tests that he had to perform in order to court the prince. Niecal had been reluctant to take on the missions but his love for Tathar had beaten his common sense in the end. In order to safe guard those with suitors, anyone who did not complete the set tasks would be executed or exiled. Depending on the rank of the mate. It was indeed harsh but the Mirkwood kingdom was a highly trained bunch and did not need a scorned elf abducting their mate if they failed in completing their missions. Niecal had completed the tasks, as was custom for marriage and had been welcomed into the family. They had been wedded for twelve decades, still the newest couple in the royal family. 

They had been traveling quite peacefully for the journey when on the homestretch one elf came up to the general. His horse was tiring as it tried to keep up with the prince's own, the prince, noticing this, slowed his steed to accommodate the elf. 

"General, there is something that moves in the bushes. It has followed us for some time. We have not been able to catch this creature."

"Then lead the party. I shall return soon with this disturber."

The general broke off from the party and moved his horse into the nearby brush, probing the forest skies for the creature. Muttering about being not even an hour from home, he scanned the area. A slight rustle to the left caught his attention. A muffled giggle followed it. Tathar's forehead quirked as he closer examined the bush, and saw eight legs sticking out along with an additional two elven feet. Rubbing his forehead in exasperation he tugged the elf out of the bushes.

"How many times, Little Leaf must I tell you not to follow? If father were to find out you ventured from your rooms, on the eve of the celebration-"

"Cease your worry brother, I have not been found. Gwibess merely wanted a look at the foreign elves."

"Ah of course, how could I have been so blind? It was obviously your _spider_ that demanded you come out here and see the _foreign_ elves."

Legolas was at a loss. He couldn't lie; he had dragged his spider out here so he could see the elves. He had heard of their coming while his brother was ordered to be their guide at dinner the previous night. He had begged his father to allow him to accompany Tathar but had been told he was only to leave his rooms under full guard. Dismayed at the thought of being surrounded by guards for any thing save meals, the youngest prince had remained in his room. Escaping the confines of his room after lunch had been difficult. Not only did he have his normal guards but six others. Climbing out his window was his last resort. Gwibess barely let him go, demanding to come as well. A few miles into the woods they set up camp, waiting for the party to cross. 

Legolas had never seen so many male elves. He was restricted to having female company or being around family. It was one of the few rules the King did not allow his Little Leaf to break. He had been pleased when his brother Tathar had married Niecal; it meant that his future company possibilities had expanded. Luckily Tathar had married a male, he was afraid he might wed a female. Not that he was against his brother being happy, but it would mean that he would be stuck listening to someone prattle about girly things. Male elves were a rarity for him to talk with. He only had his father and six brothers. Occasionally he was permitted to speak with his father's councilors but only when they were free and he had full guard detail. His guard detail was the only one in the kingdom made up solely of females. Not a single male was allowed to be part of Prince Legolas's sentry.

"Tathar! I've never seen _foreign_ elves. I just wanted to-" 

"Enough of that, you are to be wed soon and do what pleases you soon enough. Until then, you are **not** to come out and see _male_ elves, especially **suitors**."

"Yes, Tathar."

"Come along then, I still have to bring these Lórien elves to the palace."

"You mean I can-" His brother shushed him by placing a finger over his lips and nodding. Leaping into the saddle with his brother he wiggled in excitement. Gwibess looked hurt at being left behind and beseechingly stared at the princes.

"I will not bring a spider on my horse. The Lórien elves have already run into orcs. I need not bring a spider to their presence."

"Ahh but Tathar, Gwibess is not a _spider_ spider. And what do you mean when you say they have run into orcs?"

Not answering, he moved his horse forward and into a run. He needed to catch up with the party. If they felt slighted by his disappearance there was no telling what his father would do. His steed sensed his urgency and picked up the pace. Legolas, forgetting about orcs and Gwibess, leaned forward and spread his arms. Rarely was he allowed to ride his own horse. His father did not allow him to take up 'dangerous hobbies', even though every other elf in the kingdom rode. Not all elves, the pregnant ones were not allowed near the horses or the forests. They were much too precious. Some of the older warriors did not ride either; the same was true of many scholars. Legolas frowned, so not all elves rode, but everyone he talked to seem to!

So caught up in his pondering, Legolas did not notice when Tathar's horse caught up with the Lórien party. Not until the murmurings started. "Who is it that rides with the General?" "Where has that elf come from?" "Was he not alone before?"

Tathar ignored the whisperings about his brother. In a few minutes his brother would be back at the palace and he was not about to get him in trouble by mentioning his name in front of these elves. They might mention they had seen him and then King Thranduil would be in a rage. He was testy enough with the celebration coming up. His councilors had been forced to find and create the hardest tasks for the suitors to go through. The king was taking no chances with his youngest. There would still be seven tasks, but for some reason they would be spaced out over weeks instead of the customary months or in some cases years. Tathar felt his father was being ridiculous in his time; no one would recover in the week they would be given. Niecal had pointed out that was probably his purpose. Thranduil was terribly possessive of his Little Leaf and felt that anyone suitors were not worthy.

"We are about to arrive home, Little Leaf," whispered Tathar in his brother's ear.

"Aww, how about you lead them through the forest a bit longer Tathar?" 

"Father would not be pleased with my antics, young one."

The Marchwarden gazed at the general. Who was that elf with him? He had disappeared for a number of minutes only to appear later with a new passenger, quite a beauty at that. They seemed very familiar with one another. He shook his head; it should have been obvious that the general would marry high in the hierarchy of Mirkwood. Look at the two who rode at his sides he sighed.

'Perhaps my brothers were not wrong when they said I should look for a mate. This Tathar's is very striking, perhaps my bride shall come from Mirkwood.'

~~~

How was that? Thank you everyone who reviewed! I was so excited when I saw people liked this! I fixed my elf/elve problem, I thought I did it wrong but couldn't tell.

Farflung: Oooh I know, I love that fic. I'm glad you like my Haldir! *grins* Everyone gets a malicious kick out of making men suffer with pregnancies, it's just to funny to pass up!

Jaque: Thank you soooo much for finding that for me! I wasn't sure what the correct one was! ^.^;; *hugs*

Angel From Hell: Glad you think so!

Aj: Thankie!

Rae: Oooh do you know anymore of them besides this one and the one I got the idea from? I know there is one on aff.net, but beyond that I haven't a clue.

Angelbird12241: Thanks! *passes slice of ice-cream cake*

Steph: *hugs* Wow thanks! I just love them together too! *sighs* They're just so perfect! *smiles*

Haldir's Heart and Soul: I love that one too! I wonder if it's been updated yet *wanders off to check on fic*

Legolas19: Danke! Happy you liked!

Thank you everyone who reviewed, and wished me a happy b-day! *smiles* I was so hyper when I saw people liked my story! I hope this chapter pleases! *scampers off to start next chapter* Oh any questions feel free to ask in a review or email!

Later yo,

Icy


	3. Sweet Buns and Forever Imprinted

Special, Just Like Everyone Else

Author: Icy

Ch.2

~~~

As a ruler one has certain obligations. They hold a responsibility to look out for their people. For their people willingly give their lives and obedience to this King not freely, but in exchange for protecting and expected loyalty. Kingship is bond that requires the citizens to be trusting of their ruler's intent. One may enter into it if they give up everything. As a King, of either Men or Elves, there are no halfway grounds. One must make sacrifices that are neither pleasant nor satisfying. It was a harsh agreement, holding those who make it to their word. It was a taxing position, full of customs and tradition. Often it is this bond that makes a leader give up what they would otherwise not. King Thranduil, of the Mirkwood realm was no different.

Thranduil rested his chin on his hand. He was still in a meeting, the meeting that had been in session since lunch ended. The king's mind wandered, thinking back to the meal he'd had. Of late the brown bread had been supreme, he'd have to remember to have some for dinner. His councilors drowned on about recent orc attacks; apparently they were becoming more frequent in the woods nearest Laketown. They would have to send more reinforcements soon, or they would break through their defenses. Nodding his consent to send four more battalions of warriors the following morn, the king continued to think of the bread. It had been so mouthwatering, cream spread over the top, steam rising off invitingly. He would defiantly have bread brown at all his feasts. 

At last one of his councilors stood, indicating that he wished to speak. The others fell silent after a moment, turning to see what he wished to add.

"I do believe we have discussed all that need be, for this session. I shall speak with you all on the morrow."

Thranduil snapped his attention up. Ah, that was why. It was Yaniul, one of his most respected councilors. He had been on the board since his father's time. Often the King took his guidance, he was a wise even for an elf. Oddly enough, Yaniul was one of Mirkwood's teachers. He was the most respected musician in the land, having a talent for picking out and creating wonderful melodies. 

The others on the board began to file out of the room, muttering and waving scrolls at one another. They seemed reluctant to go, even though the meeting had spanned for hours already. Smiling at Yaniul, he motioned for him to come forward. 

"Old friend I do believe we have much to discuss, concerning my youngest," he stated.

"Yes, of course my lord." He bowed and then stood, gazing up at him.

"As you well know, the eve of Legolas' coming out is upon us, and know many new responsibilities shall land on his shoulders-"

"I understand, your majesty, Legolas shall cease his lessons—if that is your wish." He interrupted, looking regretful.

King Thranduil looked appalled. Shaking his head he laughed at the elder councilors grim appearance.

"You mistake me, friend. As long as my Little Leaf resides in Mirkwood I wish for his lessons to continue." Yaniul perked up at hearing this, smiling brightly at the king. Thranduil returned the smile, geniuly pleased to reassure his friend, he had such a wonderful smile. It was truly a shame not to see it more often. His presence, like his children, warmed his soul.

"That is wonderful, I am glad to hear it is so, my lord."

"I would also like to ask you about-"

The doors to the meeting room were thrown open, banging against the walls brutally. An out of breathe guard rushed up to the king, hunched over and panting. He was decked out in dark breeches, a lighter tunic belted over a cream shirt. Ornaments were carefully pinned up and down the shirt. His hair was even in the typical fashion used for battle, which should not have been considering he was not currently engaged in battle. The king scowled, warrior traditions were to be respected. This mutinous elf would have to be severely punished as proof that insubordination for the traditions would not be accepted. Looking generally bedraggled and put out, the elf wheezing against his knees.

"What is the meaning of this?" Growled the king, puffing up in irritation.

The guard was frightened enough to cease his gasping, looking at the King in alarm.

"I uh there is a-a p-problem w-w-with the"

"Cease your stuttering, you disrespect the King with your incoherent speech." Growled the councilor, glaring at the blathering guard.

The elf seemed to sober at the attack, his shoulders sinking from the reprimand.

"There is a problem, your majesty, with the celebration dance." 

Looking closer at the elf the king realized that this was not a true guard, but one of the dancers who was playing a guard in the dance. It was the most important part of the coming out celebration. Due to the complexity of the moves and speed at which an elf must perform, the elves chosen for it our picked out twenty years before the performance. It takes a limber body and high stamina for the feat, and only the most proficient are chosen. Because of the Queen's death the King chose the dance, although usually the female or carrier picks it. Thranduil has chosen the final dance his Queen had designed herself, which was unfortunately the most complex to date. The feat would last four hours and had over two hundred dancers included.

Legolas had to attend several practices a week to learn and keep up with the dance. There were five hours of required 'upkeep' that those involved had to take on also. Most swam or worked out, finding the least dangerous ways to keep them fit. Understudies were in the hundreds, each practicing the whole time also. One needed to stay in shape. Often extra 'practices' were thrown when the dancers felt the need to work out a certain sequence or pattern. A succession of injuries from an orc attack made a near-fatal blow on the ranks of performers. With forty broken bones and seventy less brutal injuries, many dancers were forced to give up their spots. It had caused a disturbance for some time before the King was able to settle things down by declaring that anyone injured could attempt to get back their position but would be required to attend nine more practices to catch up.

"What is the cause of this disturbance?" roared Thranduil suddenly irritated.

"It seems that Prince Legolas has not attended his latest practice, my lord. The instructor is most irate."

Nodding, the king sighed. It was unlike Legolas to miss practice. It was one of the few chances that his youngest was allowed around so many, _many_ males. He shook his head, annoyed by the danger presented to his son. The king was very protective of his Little Leaf; every one in Mirkwood knew this. There were more guards posted during the dance practices than any other of Prince Legolas's actives. Nonetheless the Prince loved to dance, if there were some gorgeous looking male elves there it was merely a plus. Thranduil puzzled over why his son would skip such a chance. There had to be a reason behind this recent disobedience.

The Prince was by no means perfect. On several occasions he made a fool out of the king and his court. Like the time he'd let the black squirrels into the thrown room, or when his spider spit webs over all the councilors chairs. Even one time he wove a rash inducing vine in the royal crown. Once he even went so far as to put water in from one of the hidden ponds that made the bowel movements extremely violent for two weeks.

~~~

The hallways of the Mirkwood palace were nothing if not extensive. They were fully furnished with tapestries, but mostly they tried to enhance to beautiful wood walls. At this particular moment the youngest prince of Mirkwood was walking down a hall that had several murals of feasts in flowers covering it. His faithful spider trailing behind, chittering in it's own language. Legolas grinned at the beastie, shaking his head.

"You know I would not leave you on purpose Gwibess! A chance of riding is such a scarcity, I simply forgot you momentarily." The spider squeaked out something, which only seemed to encourage the Prince. 

Patting the spider on the head he grinned belligerently. He almost missed seeing someone come down the hallway. For a moment, Legolas panicked, he'd never met someone without his guards. What if who ever it was coming would harm him? What was he to do? His father would be furious if something happened to him, and several elves would no doubt lose their lives. Legolas frowned, he hadn't even considered meeting up with someone in the palace, which was of course ridiculous--what with all the guests showing up. Pacing back and forth in annoyance at his lack of foresight Legolas screamed when someone tapped him on the shoulder.

"Aiiiiii!"

"Prince Legolas, please! Cease your screaming, my old ears can not take it."

Legolas turned around to meet the gaze of his teacher, Yaniul. Letting out a deep breath, and feeling stupid for getting so frightened, the young prince smiled at him. He always liked his father's old council member. Out of the bunch he was the only one that seemed to make sense. While the others tried to manipulate the King to gain more power and prestige, Yaniul was the only one that cared for the kingdom. Legolas frowned for a few seconds; it was common knowledge that Mirkwood was in trouble. The orcs had been growing steadily worse as the years went by. It was scary how quickly a kingdom that was once so great could fall so swiftly. Turning his thoughts to happier times he forced a smile out for his teacher. Before he could get a greeting out though, Yaniul spoke.

"Legolas, about your classes, your father has spoken with me about it."

"Yes?"

"He wishes for you to continue, as long as you remain in Mirkwood that is."

Legolas lost his smile, was his father so ready to rid of him? He was already discussing what was to happen to him? Was he really such a burden?

"You shall be there tonight?"

"I shall do as my father wishes, Yaniul."

Legolas drifted past his teacher, head down and sighing. Gwibess trailed after him, chittering softly to the prince.

Yaniul frowned at the prince's attitude. Normally he had to be pried from his side, being one of the few males the king felt him safe around, Greenleaf rarely departed of his own will. Either another appointment or meal separated the two. Yaniul grinned fondly; the youngster had an air about him that could soften even the hardest of spirits. His own King was a prime example of his wondrous effects. He shook his head and put it off as coming out jitters.

~~~

Haldir reclined in a chair. His brother, Rumil wandered into the room, having come from the resting quarters. Next to him laid his other brother Orophin, relaxing from their journey.

"Mirkwood has most gracious rooms," Rumil said, "though a talan would be more comfortable."

"Homesick so soon?"

Rumil just rolled his eyes at his brothers  excitement.

"The rooms are not what we should concern ourselves with. Finding this elusive youngest of Mirkwood is much more worthwhile." Orophin stated, standing up from his seat, only for his stomach to rumble.

"Perhaps some refreshments would be in order."

"I shall retrieve some snacks from the kitchen," Haldir offered, getting up also and heading to the door.

"Ah, good plan younger brother. You gather up some refreshments, while we go find out what there is to know about this elf." Rumil grinned, sprinting out the door before either could stop him.

Haldir looked over at his older brother.

"Perhaps you should follow him, make sure he does not get in _too_ much trouble. It wouldn't do us any favors to have the Mirkwood elves against us." Haldir pointed out. 

  
Orophin turned out the door, heading after his youngest brother. Haldir going the other way, headed to the kitchens.

He arrived there to see elves running back and forth as if their lives depended on it. Twice he was bumped into and hastily apologized at. Tantalizing smells rose up from the fires, beckoning to him. Dinner would be a splendid feast. He caught the attention of a small elfling, an apprentice in the kitchens.

"I need refreshments for myself and brothers."

"Oh course milord." The little elfling scurried off into the madness.

The door swung open again to allow someone to come in. Curious, Haldir turned to see the most exquisite elf he'd seen come in the door…trailed by a spider! He went to reach to his side where his sword normally was only to remember he'd taken it off in his room. Looking around for a suitable weapon he noticed that no one moved to kill the spider. Confused he watched as the elf said something in a musical voice and the spider…responded. The beauty grinned and playfully ruffled the hair on the giant spider.

Haldir was so entranced that he didn't notice the young elfling had returned with a basket until it was forced into his hands and he was practically shoved forcefully from the kitchen. Snorting at the rude manners of elflings he headed back to his suite, looking forward to hear what his brothers had found.

~~~

Legolas giggled at his spider's squeaks, cheering up right away. They entered the kitchen, Legolas looking around for Ermil, the young apprentice elfling in the kitchens. He'd be able to get a few sweets from her if he asked the right way. As he searched his eyes landed on one of the Lórien elves. The prince blushed as he spotted the elf, he was very handsome, not to mention that he seemed familiar somehow. Which was impossible, Legolas had been sheltered by males all his life, not to mention he's never seen a foreign elf before this morning's ride. Dance lessons were the only chances he got to see any of males. Dancing lessons! Legolas smacked his head, he'd forgotten. Father would not be pleased. He'd probably be suspicious too.

Looking up to hopefully get another glance at the Lórien elf, Legolas saw only air in the spot he had stood. He quickly turned around to see Ermil shoving him out of the room. He giggled at the elf's actions.

"And why, Ermil, do you show such disrespect to the Lórien elves?"

She huffed, placing her hands on her hips, looking utterly ridiculous considering she was coved in flour.

"I wouldn't a done it if he 'and't of been lookin' at you like your ada's does 'is gems!" she puffed.

Legolas blushed. "He was doing no such thing!"

"'ow would you know, you were givin' 'im the same look!" she grinned.

"I-I-I was **not**!" protested the beet red prince.

Giving him a break she changed the subject.

"Is there something you came 'ere for?"

"There wouldn't happen to be any sweet buns made already, would there?" He asked, blinking his eyes innocently.

"Not a chance. I made those myself and if the 'ead chef sees me given them to you, she'll 'ave my 'ead!"

"Aww, come on, just one? Gwibess and I missed a meal! Look at us, were practically starving!" he pleaded, lifting up his tunic to reveal a lithe chest, patting his stomach for emphasize. Ermil blushed.

"You best not be doin' that 'round 'ere!" she scolded, yanking his top down, "Ooh fine! I'll get you **one**!"

Legolas grinned at his success. People always worried when he started begging them; oddly enough all he had to do was show a little skin and bam he got what he wanted. Not an everyday practice to be sure, but in desperate situations one must call upon desperate measures. Getting dessert early was definitely a desperate situation, or so Legolas explained to his spider. Gwibess rolled her eyes, nudging her master.

"One for Gwibess too!"

Ermil grumbled but got the additional pastry. Wrapping them in cloth she handed them over to the prince.

"You better get on to your lessons! Or Yaniul will have **your** 'ead!" 

Grinning with a mouthful of sweet bun he thanked her and left, Gwibess trailing once more.

~~~

Haldir returned to his suite, slightly in a daze and grinning. That elf from the kitchen had been the stunning. He'd have to see him again. There was no question in his mind about that, now if he only knew that beauty's name. 

The three brothers gathered back into their room, sharing what they had learned. Rumil seemed to have gotten the most information from people while Orophin kept him out of trouble. Over all the information they discovered about Mirkwood's royalty was that it was there were several princes and even a supposed princess. They couldn't find out whom the youngest was, just that they were stunningly handsome and talented with a bow; not to mention the king was wrapped around their finger.

 Haldir sighed when he heard this. Elves were **all **beautiful. **All** Mirkwood elves were good with a bow. It went unsaid that the warrior realm created the strongest of warriors. Occasionally other kingdoms would send their own elves to Mirkwood or on the off chance that they could persuade one, higher a soldier to come to their own land and teach them. Even though their were rumors of a darkness perverting the Mirkwood the elves were extremely reluctant to abandon the land.

Overall they were unable to find suitable information on who the celebration was being thrown for. It was odd, considering that coming out elves were one thousand years old, so they collected quite a history; about this elusive elf they could only gleam a few events. Haldir felt uneasy about the whole ordeal. The situation was starting to make them stir crazy, in order to ease the tensions that were building between the three brothers they decided to leave the room. Their options were severely limited due to their limited knowledge of the vast land. Only certain places were deemed necessary for the Marchwardens to know which are: the kitchens, the thrown room, the meeting room, the archery fields, and the horse buildings. They only knew a couple other locations. Having already eaten, all three went to the archery fields in order to restock the arrows lost from today's battle.

~~~

Tathar Calmcacil pulled back his bow and released another arrow. After returning from his guide duty he had calmly walking down the halls, when suddenly he overhead a group of dancers conversing over the subject of the Prince missing a practice that day. Tathar had frozen, if his father found out that he had helped or participated in Legolas' adventure he would be in for it. While Greenleaf was often disciplined, any who assisted in his misdemeanors were ludicrously punished. Using archery practice as relaxation, he went to pull another arrow from his quiver, grasping only thin air he grunted in annoyance.

Signaling to his partner, he moved out of the shooting range and over towards another area. Out of the practice range and now in the refill station, the prince noticed a trio of Lórien elves. Curious, he stepped closer; perhaps he would be able to 'overhear' some information on some of the Golden Woods' suitors.

"Practically nothing! It's utterly depressing. I do so hope that in my years passed a memory of myself has been firmly planted in all I've crossed." One muttered, seemingly the youngest of the group.

"Fear not, after crossing paths with the likes of you, known would be as lucky as to forgo their memories." 

"Nay brother, their nightmares!" crowed the third one.

The three turned to the elf in charge of the supplies. After requesting a journey elf's set, they were appalled to find their order wouldn't be filled until three to four weeks. Following a further questioning they discovered it was due to the King requesting that four battalions go forth the next morn they understood. The elves would be hard pressed to stock their own warriors without worrying about visitors. 

Tathar, having eavesdropped on their previous bickering smirked in amusement. Schooling his features he turned to the three.

"Seeing as there are no extra sets, would it be possible to lure any of you in an archery competition?"

They looked shocked to have company. Tathar hid a laugh. Legolas would be rolling when he heard of this. Often the two brothers gathered with one another, discussing the occurrences of the days. His brother would love to hear about the dumbfounded foreign group.

The silvery Marchwarden from this morning stepped forward, holding a quiver of arrows.

"It would honor us greatly to compete with a Mirkwood general."

Ah, so they did remember him. He smiled, nodding at the Marchwarden. This would almost be too easy.

"If you would kindly follow me, I shall bring you…"

~~~

Tathar slid his bow onto his back, trying not to smirk at the overconfident Marchwarden. Who he had just happened to defeat in archery, Mirkwood wasn't known for its archers for nothing. Signaling his partner once more, he moved forward to retrieve the arrows used. To give credit where it was due, Tathar hadn't seen such a talented archer that hadn't trained with those of his land in a long while. He told him so.

"You speak too kindly, General."

"Tathar, you may call me Tathar."

"Then you must do myself the same honor, Tathar."

"Oooh, us the same as well!" squawked Haldir's youngest brother. The General smiled.

"Then it is so. But if you think my skill with a bow is impressive then you must see my youngest sibling's. That is a skill unheard of in archery, even from Mirkwood."

Haldir smiled, a better archer? He wasn't the Captain of the Guard without holding an interest in the skills of battle. It would be impressive to see such a display.

"If it would be possible, Tathar, I would very much enjoy seeing this."

"I thought as much, if you three will once more follow my lead, I shall bring you to the practice, it soon ends."

They agreed and followed the prince from the archery fields, after he signaled once more to his partner. He took them pass the horses and library, nodding every now and then to a passerby. The Marchwarden's were shocked at the detail and designs that went into the constructions. The Golden Woods were decorated in ways dedicated to the peaceful practices of their people, while these woods had many of the warrior aspects drawn out.

Haldir was entranced to hear a silvery song echoing from the halls. He, being an elf, was used to heavenly songs, but this seemed…beyond reality's ability. Haldir was at once captivated by the tune. He unknowingly picked up his pace, wishing to hurry their journey. As soon he met the General's sibling he would excuse himself to find that divine voice. They were approaching a building, which Haldir knew not, his brow creased in confusion. He had been sure the General had been referring to one of the barracks, the practice being that of a warrior's. Why was Tathar bringing them to this musical place then? The beautiful song increased in volume.

"The voice, it is most pleasing." Haldir noted, hoping to get the General into conversation.

He did not seem to wish to speak too much on the singing and, his reply was short.

Tathar smiled fondly, "Yes, I feel it is the best our halls' have. Though, I fear I am biased in my judgment."

The melody was stunning. The singer's voice rose, singling the ending of the song. As the final note was sang, they arrived in front of an archway. The foursome halted. Haldir peered into the room, searching for the owner of the miraculous voice. What lay before him was the most pleasing.

~~~

That is all for this installment, sorry for the long wait. My dad's computer was wiped clean of all my information. So it took me a while to restore this story.

I would like to thank everyone who took the time to review, it was very encouraging through the not so easy patches on this chapter. The next will be up sooner, I promise. The gap between ch. 2 and 3 was too long in my opinion. I made this one like 2 ½ longer than the normal chapters I write. I hope you enjoyed, and look forward to hearing more of your kind words!

I was very pleased to see Gwibess was well liked, don't worry Legolas' loyal spider shall make more appearances. Sorry about the chapter switch-mix-up. Next chapter: Over protective King, watch out suitors!

Later yo,

Icy


	4. Opera Voices and Naughty Implications

Special, Just Like Everyone Else

Author: Icy Flame

Ch. 3

~~~

Breathing in deeply Legolas began the last chorus. His voice trilled as the notes rose higher and higher. His teacher's fingers flew across the accompanying instrument, testing his skill with the arrangement. Legolas knew it was a difficult one; after all, he had composed it himself. It had been on one of the magnificent summer day that his father had forbidden him from spending outside. There had been a mob of wild men storming the forest. In honor of all those who were defending Mirkwood Legolas had taken the task of creating a dirge depicting their efforts. His ending results were fifty-two sections of an untainted harmony. It had an accompaniment for either the piccolo or soldier's flute. The climax was pending when Legolas felt his throat start to tighten. The song required the singer to hold a range of eight octaves. Not only the large range but also a hefty lung capacity. The vocalist let out the last note, trying to hold back a gasp

Yaniul clapped Legolas on the back, nodding at his accomplishment. He gave the young elf one of his rare winning smiles.

"You have a rare gift, Greenleaf. You should treasure it always; few elves have been such a miraculous talent. Oh course you could use a great deal of practice, youngling, do not get cocky."

Legolas smiled at his teacher. Not only did he have a sweet bun waiting for him but also Yaniul had been delighted with his performance. It was not often that his teacher praised his pupils.  He was very strict when ever he taught, not giving away any of his thoughts. He would constantly bark out commands, training Mirkwood's singers like a drill sergeant. It was tough, but Legolas found himself enjoying his lessons. It was not often he had someone who didn't treat him as if he would break at a moments notice.

He had been afraid upon returning that his father had discovered that he'd skipped his dance practice. He would no doubt be furious, with so few days left until the actually performance it was considered vital that everyone attend. His instructor would no doubt be furious, but for obvious reasons there was not much that could be done about it. Legolas was the main performer in the dance so he could not be replaced. Legolas felt a little guilty about skipping out, but he was sure that if he had the chance he would do it again. There would be no other way he could have seen the foreign elves. There was no way his father would permit him to greet that many male elves, especially since they were not of Mirkwood. Thranduil had forbid any unsupervised contact he had with outsiders long ago. It had taken decades for Legolas to even convince or rather wheedle his father to let him met those of his realm. He already knew the steps by heart at this point; his dance instructor had been pleased at his performance. Several generations had attempted to use the Mirkwood's late queen's final arrangement for their own coming of age celebrations with no successes. It would have been foolish to waste such a brilliant day with stretching and awaiting others to fix their last minute mistakes. The instructor had been polishing up everyone's moves for the last several weeks. His lessons was almost over and Legolas was pleased. His feet were beginning to protest.

"That is enough, I would suggest having a drink of ezilativer to ease your throat."

Legolas nodded Yaniul's advice was always wise to take. Stroking his throat in hopes of soothing it, he grinned. The Prince turned, prepared to return to his rooms for a nap and get the prescribed drink. It would be several hours before dinner and he wished to be well rested. He didn't know whom he would be meeting tonight; perhaps his father would allow him to sit near an Lórien elf! Silently praying this was true, he almost missed his brother at the door. There were three other elves with him, all Lórien and all _male._

Putting on his most charming smile, he walked over to group. He was aware of his father wasn't planning on pairing him off with a female elf. For understandable reasons too, shaking his head he turned his attention to the three new elves. It didn't bother him that his life mate would be male; he was rather pleased with the decision actually. He walked up to his brother, hugging him in excitement. He would finally be around some attractive, hopefully single and interesting young chaps. He tired of the constantly same company.

"It is" Legolas started before be broke out coughing. "Good to see you, Tathar." He finished dryly.

"What ever is the matter, Little Leaf?" asked Tathar, concerned he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Legolas' shoulders.

Yaniul stepped forward, laying a hand on Tathar's shoulder.

"Cease your worry, young one. He merely has to follow my instruction and your Little Leaf's voice shall be returned."

Bobbing his head to show he understood, the General turned to the three Marchwardens. Bowing slightly he, straightened.

"I am afraid I must postpone the showing of my brother's skill. I…that is, I wish to care for my—"

"Of course, we will see you tonight, Tathar." Rumil agreed, moving out of the way as they left to return to their rooms. Rumil received a dirty look from Haldir and was about to ask why when he went past him. Exchanging a look with his other brother he silently asked what he'd done wrong.

"Haldir wished to converse with the General on the Royal family. Your quick acceptance of dismissal obstructed his plans."

"Pft, you know as well as I he doesn't have to marry within the Mirkwood Royal Family. After all, any old elf would do!"

"You know, as well as I, youngest brother that with his position as Captain of the Guard he is required to have a mate of certain…status."

~~~

Looping an arm around his waist and grabbing the other one, Tathar led the youngest prince towards his living quarters.  Halfway their Legolas slipped out of his big brother's grip, sending him an annoyed glare. With an apologetic look he continued to guide his brother to his room, looking around occasionally as if he felt someone were planning on ambushing them from the corners. Legolas graced him a weary stare but let his brother lead onwards. With a casual glance backwards he noted that his trusty spider was still trailing them, concerned eyes on his elven master. The younger prince felt their concern and flustered, it was just a sore throat, what was the big deal? 

Upon arriving at his quarters he was tucked into a cocoon of blankets.

 Searching the selves Tathar attempted to locate the ingredients. It was difficult. While Legolas was rarely allowed out of the castle grounds he did own a garden. The land was cared for quite diligently by the young elf. He spent many hours in the garden. It was one of his few escapes inside his father's domain. Whilst he couldn't go into the forests and climb into the mighty trees, Little Leaf was allowed a few outside activities. Besides dancing and singing lessons, he was skilled in many forms of art. Battle tactics came naturally to the Mirkwood elf, this was mainly because of his realm's deep need for warriors. Legolas had been on very few outings in the woods, but the skills were deemed essential if he were to stay in the dark lands, along with many other scholarly talents.

Due to the restrictions on his hobbies though, tending his herb garden had been a major pastime. His guard was mainly cut down to one or two elves. He was afforded a great deal of privacy while caring for his plot. The patch of land was undeniably beautiful, sprouting plants for most of the year. Every so often the golden haired elf would take some herbs from his garden to be used as medicines. He had a gift for creating

A round of coughs in the other room stirred Tathar from his musings. Spotting the leaves he needed on the eighth self he scooped them up. Gently placing the dry herbs into the stone bowl he began to grind them. A fragrance rose from the bowl, it was pleasing to the nose but it held a tart taste. He knew from experience that it wasn't the greatest tasting of the elven medicines but it was very affective. The general took the powder and shoveled into a mug. Turning towards the fire he lifted a kettle that held water. Pouring it into the cup he stirred the powder with the water. An inviting plume of steam rose from the mug as he crossed the room to his brother.

Carefully extending his arm with the cup he passed the hot liquid to Legolas.

"Drink"

Nodding at Tathar he tipped to contents back and swallowed it. A twisted expression covered his features.

"Erg, what was in that?" he squawked, groping his throat. Tathar threw him an indignant look and frowned.

"Fine, from now on you can make your own cures."

Sensing that he had hurt Tathar's pride in his potion he frowned. Apologetically he crawled across the cushioned bed. Wrapping his arms around his brother's shoulders he squeezed.

"I didn't mean to be ungrateful brother, I'm sorry. I really appreciate your care."

Tathar, melting from his brother's praise grinned. Returning the hug he messed up his hair.

"Aright, let's get you back into bed. You'll need your rest if you intended to attend the feast tonight."

Legolas grunted in reply, consenting to be tucked back in bed.

  
~~~

Thranduil looked out at the guests, frowning on the inside while he gave the crowd a smile. Tipping his head graciously at the Lady and Lord of Lórien he tried not to grit his teeth in annoyance. Taking up his goblet he raised it to the masses and muttered an elvish phrase. A great cheer swelled from the multitude and the King choked back his wine. It tasted sour and tart to his tongue. His sons were set out before him, mingling with the visiting elves. It was a rare occurrence for those not of this realm to dine there but once in a while the King would relent and allow company. 

His subjects were cherishing the rare chance to exchange news and stories with old friends.  There would be few such chances soon. As he turned to his youngest, for the first time tonight, the King of Mirkwood smiled.

Picking up a piece of brown bread he recalled his son's absence from his practice that morn. He tried to go over any possible reasoning for this. As he thought before, it was one of his son's most favored pass times. Stopping his attendance was inconceivable; in fact Legolas was normally early. The King had been greatly shocked upon hearing that he skipped. He'd sent out a patrol at once, demanding they search the grounds for the youngest heir. All he had learned was that Legolas had been wandering the halls with his spider. He was determined to discover where he had been earlier, or more precisely who with. Thranduil went over his approach; after all, it wouldn't do to just blurt it out. Not to mention that, as a king, he had learned certain skills! If he was anything, it was discreet.

Leaning forward he delicately motioned for Greenleaf's attention. Legolas, who had moments before, been speaking to one of his brothers heatedly.

"So Greenleaf, who was he?"

The youngest prince faltered in his conversation, staring at his father aghast. The others at the main table also stared. Someone down the table began to cough hoarsely. Was the King implying what they thought he was? Legolas gaped at his father, mouth open and hand loosely gripping his spoon. He felt blood rushing to his face as his face heated up.

"I don't believe I understand what you are referring to."

"You did not attend dance today, I am inquiring as to why Greenleaf. Who were you with Greenleaf?"

~

Haldir sat with his brothers at the feast, amongst the few that were allowed the pleasure to join the high table. It was filled mainly with royalty and noble, though high ranking military were sprinkled about the table. The tables were loaded an exotic fare that left their mouths watering. Gracefully sitting in a chair he surveyed those in his vicinity. There were a number of Mirkwood warriors to his immediate left, nearing the end of the table. Looking to his right he saw that his Lord and Lady were settled in next to the King. The rest of the Mirkwood royalty was nestled in between some of the visiting lords and highborn. 

Rumil touched his hand, shaking him from his trance.

"You look tense brother, whatever the matter, you can tell me."

Rumil's sincere concern for Haldir touched him deeply, warming his heart. He sent him a warm smile.

"Thank you for your concern brother, but there is nothing to report, I fear it is misplaced."

"If you believe so…" he trailed, scooping a rose colored gravy onto his plate.

"So Greenleaf, who was he?"

Rumil started to cough, grasping at his throat. Haldir whacked him on the back a few times; making sure it was nothing serious he turned his attention back to the King of Mirkwood. His attentions were focused on one elf. It was the one from this morn and the lesson! That was the General's mate, the one sharing his horse. 

"I don't believe I understand what you are referring to."

"You did not attend dance today, I am inquiring as to why Greenleaf. Who were you with Greenleaf?"

Haldir exchanged a confused look with his brothers, why would the King be so interested in his General's mate? Or what he did that day? It seemed odd to Haldir that he would take it upon himself to discover whether this elf was hanging out with other males? This was very suspicious. Haldir examined Greenleaf closer and noticed a dark red filling out his cheeks. 'He must have been with someone else.'

Haldir frowned; being adulterous was greatly looked down upon by elves. Most saw it as something that was uncouth and a trait of only the crass. To be unfaithful to one's chosen partner showed not only disrespect to your mate but also your family. With such long lives, family honor was held in the esteem of most. The gruesome act was taken as an insult to the family name and often dooming. If what the King was insinuating was true than the marriage between the General and the two-timing Greenleaf would be null and void. Greenleaf's indiscretion would force him from the realm and in Ages past all those of elven kind. He would be forced to spend his sinful life amongst the other creatures of Middle Earth. Some kingdoms have lightened the punishment of late, raising the tolerance of faithless mates. As of yet, Lothlórien was steady in the old ways concerning these things. Haldir, himself, disapproved of a mate being unfaithful.  He felt that if such an event were to occur than it was obvious that the two were not meant to join in such a bond. There was no excuse for such conduct to lay with another if you were bound with a mate. That was not to say that elves were celibate race, far from it. Often they engaged in acts of passion. Lust was a main factor in their acts. But to break the sacred bond between a mated pair was unpardonable.

~

Legolas was staggered by his father's implications. Did his father really think he held such loose morals? He did not wish to get anyone in trouble, if he were to tell that he was with his brother what would happen. To not reply would be implying that he had, well done _it_ with someone and was too ashamed to fess up. That his deed was with someone that was below mention to others. Legolas looked grim, he understood the dangers of lying with another, especially before his coming of age. He glanced at his brother pleadingly; Tathar looked like an elf about to be executed but nodded his consent.

"I was with Tathar, as the Lórien party arrived, you can ask any that were present."

"Lieutenant Niecal,"

"Sir?" the lieutenant looked startled, looking up from his meal to the king's gaze. Tathar's hand rest lightly on his bonded one's knee. The tense nature of his muscles loosened.

"Do you recall Greenleaf's presence during the journey to escort the Lórien party?"

Niecal shrank back, truthfully he hadn't seen the youngest prince. That didn't mean Legolas wasn't present, just that he had not been noted. If he were the one to tell the king that his favorite had been playing hooky it would not doubt somehow be perceived as his fault. Mirkwood's king had never been viewed  as rational or very sensible when it came to Greenleaf. His shrewd nature flew as speeds even eagles would amaze at.

"I did return early, sir." He replied, reluctant to leave his brother-in-law in the lurch.

"I do not recall asking if you returned early, Niecal. Was or was he not present?"

"No, sir.  Not while I—"

"That is all I requested of you, Lieutenant!" The king growled.

Niecal flushed under the slight. Tathar bristled from his father's lack of tact towards his mate. He was starting to rise from his seat, glaring heatedly at the King when it happened.

~

Haldir watched on, intrigued and appalled by the brash display. When the lieutenant began to protest the result of his words, the three Marchwardens looked on in interest. It was never wise to fall out with royalty. Haldir could recall the former Captain of the Guard complaining of the use of his guards when Elrond's twins came for a visit. The Captain had been thrown out on her pointy ear, never welcome back in the Golden Woods. Haldir wasn't surprised when he saw the General stand to protect his beautiful mate's honor, shielding Greenleaf from the outright slur.

Right when it was truly getting juicy Greenleaf stood up from his spot at the table, thumping his hands down on the table's surface loudly.

"I just went out to see the Lórien elves, I don't see why you must make such a big deal out of it! It was only one practice out of hundreds! I know the dance."

With that said the beautiful elf hastily retreated from the room. Silence, which had moments before descended upon the feast, was now replaced with murmurings. The lieutenant looked flustered, the General peeved, and the King regretful. Haldir having taken in all he could for one night informed his brothers that he would be turning in early. The nodded in understanding, and returned their gazes to the spectacle, it seemed that the King's councilors were debating something heatedly.

~~~

Chapter End

~~~

Again, took a long while but school work is first priority and my professors seem to enjoy dishing it out. I know this chapter wasn't very well…entertaining but I was trying to set up some plot so it would make better sense later on. It's not as long as my previous chapter, but pretty darn close! I've got chapter five done so it should be up the following day! Thanks for sticking around; I know the updates have been erratic. I might try something to get them out quicker but I won't tell you just that you'll be happy with it. It won't work for long but for the next couple chapters it will.

Sorry no over-protective King, that landed in the next chapter! *grins cheekily* You'll have to read it to find out! *dashes off* 

Thank you kind reviewers! I was so happy when I saw them! It made me finish this. I tend to get lazy and just read fics instead of writing my own. There's just so much slash out there! *smiles*

Later yo,

Icy                          


	5. Callous and Confused Marchwarden

Special, Just Like Everyone Else

Author: Icy Flame

Ch. 4

~~~

Thranduil boiled; his son had made a fool out of him in front of so many! It was not just his subjects tonight, but the rare Lórien guests as well. The shame was at the breaking point. It would take a long while to cease the gossip this would cause. How could his son be so careless? It was true; elves were not a chaise race. It would be a waste. They lived so long that it would seem a disgrace to let their beauty go reverend. His wife's last was an acceptation to this though. Legolas needed to be pure when he was bonded to his mate. That meant that his virginity must be protected at all costs. All these years he had secured to prince at all hours of the day, or as close as one could with a rebellious elf, all in vain.

He watched, forlorn, as his Greenleaf left the feast. Perhaps he had been too hasty in his pursuits. He had just hoped that his boy had not given in to the chase of a lusty elf. When Legolas has looked upon him with such distress, betrayal in his eyes, the eyes of his mother, he had known he had done wrong. Oh how his little elfling reminded him of his late Queen, his one and only true mate. Time without her had left the king in a dire mood, missing her fiery spirit.  It was times like this that made the sting of his wife's death all the more present. Thranduil recalled his spouse fondly. They had spent so little time together. Only 8371 years, seven months, three weeks, six days, and eighteen hours. The years they did spend together were so filled with something new every day. He'd awoken each morn smiling; looking forward to what she would have in store for him. It was without fail that something exciting and refreshing accompanied his young wife. There had been entire months that they had It had been a grand adventure. Their temperaments were so far apart, most said that there would be no way that they could possible wed happily. Thranduil could remember like yesterday how she had come storming into his father's thrown room, marching over to him and bowing swiftly before turning and briskly marching over to him. Everyone had been too stunned to do anything against her. Her determined spirit left most in awe and those that it didn't her shocking beautify took care of. She had clasped her small hand in his large paw and tugged him from his seat. Then his lady brought him back over to his father and demanded to be allowed to take on the trials for his hand. At first the prince had been indignant, he was neither a princess nor a maternal! He was not one to be courted, seduced by a female who was also a maternal! His father, the king of Mirkwood had been over come with the thoughts of having a maternal for his son had agreed at once, setting the simplest tasks that could be taken that weren't discourteous.  His father learned that the hard way when she demanded to have more tiring trials unless she did not wish for his son to be wed. Thranduil had flushed as he was "awarded" to her, wed not many years latter. For centuries they had shared an undying passion that had prematurely been doused by the mortal birth of his youngest and most precious child.

 Thranduil wearily forced his mind from his deceased Queen. The councilors approached, the King's mood soured appropriately. They only came about when they had something they wanted to change or whine about. Neither was any form of entertainment for the King. Yaniul was the only one he saw fit for the occupation. Perhaps his next in line would rid Mirkwood's hierarchy of these vultures? He could only hope. He scowled and considered growling for a moment, before recalling that he was indeed the King of Mirkwood and to growl at his council would not only be deemed unacceptable but quite lunacy as well. Especially, he thought, after the scene with Greenleaf. He would have to deal with his son soon, before some crazy notion took place in his youngest child's head that he wasn't trusted.

Greenleaf was an intelligent elf, surpassing many of his teachers in their subjects. But when it came to matters with emotions the young elf had missed so much without a mother. Although a caring and loving youngling, Legolas did tend to get to wrong impression from people. As a very young elfling he had believed his father hated him when he was refused to go outside, taking to the notion that he was a hideous beast to be hidden away from "normal citizens". The only way the King had been able to convince him otherwise was to physically remove the youngest prince from the palace and "tour" the woods surrounding it. That had been one of the few excursions Legolas had been allowed to go. Although, the King smirked, being allowed and actually going out did not seem to hold much difference for the Prince. He chuckled at his son's antics, and then stonily glared at his council.

 "Sir, we have finished our search."

Thranduil's mood improved ever so slightly with this news. He shot a look at the surrounding populace and the whisperings stop. Conversations returned to their normal roar and the King waited for the councilors to continue.

"The scared scrolls have been quite uninformative when it comes to the specifics. There are no further particulars on what a suitor must complete, my lord." 

A thin smirk stretched over Mirkwood's ruler's face. To the councilors he seemed overly pleased at the prospects of creating his own tasks. Thranduil had to admit; if the old coots were good for anything it was research. He continued to speak with them until the feast ended, scarily enough very cheery.

~~~

Legolas stormed down the halls leading to his bedroom. His guard scurried after him in an attempt to keep up. His strides lengthened as Legolas' frustrations stewed. When the pleas of his guard finally reached his pointed little ears he stopped right away. One of guards ran straight into him, blushing and stammering apologies as she backed away. Legolas ignored her excuses and walked slower. After he arrived at his door he not so gently closed it and gave in.

The tears fell freely from his eyes now that no one was looking. His shoulders shook and legs gave out underneath him. He curled into a fetal position and wrapped his arms around his legs. He'd never felt so ashamed as he had when his father questioned him. He hadn't meant for his adventure to turn out so sourly. It had gone from a simple journey to a family feud in fewer words than he cared to think about.

His breathing was hazardous and stuffy. A pounding at his door warned him of an impending visitor.

"Little Leaf? Are you alright?" 

Scampering to his feet he chocked back a sob. He slipped over to the window, peering down to the ground below. There didn't seem to be anyone walking around, yet. Everyone must have remained at the feast. Another round of knocks assaulted the door, startling the prince and sealing his decision. Scuttling out of the window he shimmed down the side of the palace. 

When his feet touched the ground he blinked blearily in an attempt to clear his tear-ridden eyes. His feet then lead him to his herb garden. Breathing in deeply Legolas attempted to sooth his rampant emotions.

~~~

Haldir's mind was a blur with all this new information. No one was willing to spill information about the youngest royal, leaving him or her with an unmarked past. The new acquaintance Tathar's mate was cheating on him. Not only that but Lord Elrond's crew wasn't due onto the next day. The competition for the youngest Mirkwood royal would not begin until all had arrived.

Haldir shifted, uncomfortable with the mounting competitors. It was unreal. From Lórien forty-eight elves were nominated for the prince/ss' hand. Mirkwood had provided nearly seventy warriors and twelve scholars for the contest. The rivalry that Elrond was providing from his land wasn't documented. The King had sneered and said he was certain that only a few would be joining. When one of Lórien scholars had inquired as to whether freelance elves were joining the king had scoff and denounced any such attempt. It became obvious to Haldir then that the King was indeed interested in winning an ally, for what he wasn't sure but if the orc attack on his people was any clue it was for an upcoming battle.

His ears picked up a faint sniffling. He frowned, following his pointed little ears to the source of the distress he paused. There was an elf in the middle of, if Haldir's nose wasn't lying, an herb garden. He approached, silent like all elven movements. Laying a hand on their shoulder he felt them stiffen and the sobbing stop. An elf with watery red lined eyes gazed up at him, tears following freely down his face. Haldir was taken aback. Soothingly he cupped his face with his hand and wiped away the tears. He heard the soft gasp from the elf and returned his silvery gaze to his eyes. Haldir felt a gasp leave his own lips as he looked upon the other's features. It was Greenleaf! The same elf that had fled from the feasts but a few minutes previously when the King insinuated that he was being unfaithful. Haldir's first reaction was to get the valor out of there. If someone where to walk in on them then his chances of ever finding a mate were slim to none, not to mention his post as Captain of the Guard and Marchwarden would be striped away.

"Your tears, you shame the royal family with them."

The other elf just stared at him.

~

Legolas stared up at his company. His bottom lip trembled, a shudder seem to run through his entire body. For some reason this elf's words hurt more than anything else. Legolas had been shocked to find himself not alone but even more to find that the elf from earlier was who was here with him. His sadness turned quickly to anger. How dare he! Where did he think that he could speak to him like this? This elf wasn't his father-Legolas halted his thought, no of course he wasn't his father, his father was accusing him of losing his innocence right before his coming out. The anger that had been building fell away just as quickly.

His knees, suddenly weak, gave out beneath him and he collapsed to the ground. His butt his the grass and his hands went out to steady himself. What was wrong with him?

  
~

Haldir blinked in surprise, not something that often caught him, as the other elf fell. He was too shocked to even try and catch him. Greenleaf looked just as surprised to see himself on the ground. The Marchwarden looked down at the beauty, unsure of what he should do. His mind was telling him to get the valor out of there before someone came by and spotted them, while he had this gut feeling that he shouldn't leave this elf?…the area? He was unsure. Haldir frowned; he didn't like being unsure. His life was filled with battles, and being unsure of oneself was a sure way to get your self killed. Deciding that his gut was obviously wrong he turned and walked away from the goggling Greenleaf.

~~~

Rumil laid giddily on his bed. His other brother was already asleep, having left before the feast had completed. It had gone on into the night, stopping late into the night. The King had kept the glasses following and musicians working. It had been a spirited celebration, and King Thranduil had promised more to come as his youngest coming of age drew nearer.

Rumil threw an amused glance as his brother rolled over in his sleep, mumbling about mushroom gardens and giant hares. Pulling his blanket up to his shoulders he turned in for a good morning's rest.

~~~

Gwibess blinked blearily at her master's empty bed, it was much too early to awaken, why was master up? The spider stood shakily on four legs, dragging the rest. Master hadn't returned to sleep. That was not right; master should be slumbering! This great injustice must be corrected at once! 

The spider let out a 'bleat' sound and crawled over to the window. Jumping down to the ground with a thump, Gwibess sniffed at the air and took off towards her master.

~~~

CHAPTER END

~~~

Yes short I know, but I just updated yesterday! Demanding little buggers you are! ^_^ I hope to have more out soon! Not as soon as this but I have a psych exam on Thursday and my final for my Self-Defense class is next week so I only have two more classes to practice! Not to mention I get to start working on my final paper for Lit….I don't have a topic yet. Eep! Best be getting back to work! Thanks for all the support! I wish I had the time and energy to thank you all personally but I will in the next chapter. I need sleep, I just got over being sick this weekend! *smiles* I just realized a lot of this might not make sense. I finished this late so I might just go back tomorrow and scrap this chapter and re-write it. No, don't worry not totally but I'll have to make sense of it for you! I will, send any questions in an email or a review! Which reminds me, someone asked if the twins were bother maternal or just one, originally I only wanted one to be, but now that it has been mentioned I might make it both! It's a surprise! Thanks Arch-Nemesis*waves*

Later yo,

Icy


	6. Limited Entrants

__

_Special_, Just Like Everyone Else

Chapter 5

Author: Icy

Legolas stared in disbelief, that Lórien elf could not have placed the blame on _him_! That couldn't be right. How was it _he_ was the one in the wrong? It was his father who…had pointed out that he did not attend his practice…… hadn't told anyone he was going off…… or who with. Legolas sighed depressed.

'Why am I so stupid? How could I make such a oversight!' He swiped at the tears on his cheeks, what had he done? Why couldn't he go out and do things like the other elves? Why must he always be cooped up like some fragile chalice? He was just as sturdy as his brothers! And he was far more skilled in the area of the bow then anyone in the elven race. Why his father felt he couldn't protect himself was beyond him. It twasn't fair! Where was this fatal fault that made him so…weak?

* * *

Gwibess stalked in the shadows of the night. Her master would not be pleased if she scared the wits out of some visiting elves…without him there to watch. Gwibess held her breath and flattened herself up against a tree as a silvery haired elf trudged past her. She was momentarily distracted from finding her master by the broad shouldered being, he seemed familiar. Shrugging her shoulders…as much as any spider can shrug their shoulders…Gwibess continued on her rummage for Legolas, he would no doubt be in distress without her about. Surging forward once more, she had reached his 'herb garden' and found him! Patting herself on the back at being such a good, trusty spider she meandered over to her master…who was talking to himself. The arachnid held back the urge to flee; it was never a good sign when elves talked to themselves, particularly her cunning master. Edging closer, she decided this was worth investigation.

Legolas sulked, it was entirely plausible his father wanted him to bond with someone like that arrogant elf he just met. Insulting him all the time, telling him he wasn't good enough. 'I'll show them! Legolas Greenleaf, seventh Prince of the Mirkwood realm was no push over!'

"No one insults me and gets away with it!"

"Ch che che kec!"

Legolas whirled around to see his reliable spider. Smiling he patted her on the head. Gwibess wrapped one of her long furry legs around him comfortingly. He just grinned at the spider in thanks for her support. 'Whatever would I do without her?'

"You are indeed right Gwibess, we need to get some planning done. To do this properly we'll have to find out what father has in store for these suitors."

Feeling much calmer now with the soothing company of his faithful spider and with a plan in mind, Legolas's face split into a grin. He marched back to his room, spider in tow as always. Quickly scaling the wall he had previously slipped out of, he peaked out his door to see his brother was gone.

When his guard noticed him, she handed him a note from his brother. He smiled at her, causing her to flush and stare at the ground. Ducking back into the confines of his room, Legolas looked over the note. It explained he was called away from his troop's messenger, and required his brother to break his fast the next morn with him. Barely stripping out of his fancy garb, and into something more comfortable, the youngest prince of Mirkwood sank into a heavy sleep.

* * *

Haldir grunted at his brother as he lay down in bed. Rumil, who often mistook things, found this to be as a sign to take up conversation and leaned on his elbow to gaze at his brother deviously.

"Why were you out so late? You left far before us, and yet you arrive far later? Is Mirkwood such a tricky place that you found yourself lost in its woods, brother?" he teased.

"Nay, Rumil. I merely found a problem that needed taking care of." Haldir rumbled.

"Oh, I'm sure you took care of _his_ problem." Rumil ribbed, grinning lecherously.

"Brother, one day you will find your mouth will get you in trouble, I fear."

"Fear not! For I have had no complaints from what my mouth does, dearest brother. "

Haldir threw his brother a disgusted look. "I have no doubts, younger sibling of mine, that you have received a lack of complaints for your frequent activities."

Rumil continued as though Haldir hadn't just insulted him or in fact replied at all.

"In fact, dear Haldir, your own nocturnal activities have caused much greater distress than my own, as you've received much more trouble than my mouth with your di—"

"Under the pretense that it is indeed still night, I would plead that you both slumber, for your lack of this very act is affecting my own." Orophin brother growled.

Rumil and Haldir had the grace to look abashed and apologized before turning back in. With no more bickering, all three quickly fled to dreamland.

* * *

* * *

A week had passed since Legolas had seen the Marchwarden in his herb garden. An entire week and still that elf would not get out of his mind. Of all the nerve!

Awaiting his guard, Legolas tromped back and forth in his room, or tromped as much as any elf could, keeping in mind they held the grace and elegance of a being that no other possessed. The irony of not getting Haldir off his mind, even after a week later, having not settled in on the young elf.

How dare he say such a thing! That one of Galadhrim may have a handsome exterior but he would have to learn not to speak so harshly with Legolas! The sting from his words still present at the present. Oooh he would pay greatly for his words!

"He shall eat them, one by one!"

"Who shall eat what, my prince?" a guard questioned, baffled by the youngest prince's conversation.

Legolas turned swiftly on his heel at her inquire, flushing at being caught speaking to himself. It was not a habit his father would be pleased about, especially not after the last time he did it in front of the council. He cleared his throat and gave a wobbly grin.

"No one, Misura, I merely am nervous of today's events."

"As are we all, my prince."

They turned, meeting the other sentinels and after a quick nod of greeting, they hastily tried to keep up with their ward as he practically skipped down the halls.

* * *

A week ago the King of Mirkwood had received a messenger from Rivendell, informing him of a certain problem. Apparently, due to the works of some other force, the party would be late traveling the great distance, pushing their arrival a week past due. The monarch was not pleased, at all, and took a great deal of his time to express his wrath—or concern as he phrased it—that it was highly mannish of the elf Lord to prepare himself so, forcing the rest to await them.

Two and a half painful hours later, the messenger had fled the thrown room, and Greenleaf had been called in. Thranduil weakly apologized to his son, excusing his actions from the previous night by his 'concern' for his youngest son's welfare and future; in the end Legolas had wheedled his father into allowing him to attend the meeting of the Imladris elves. Legolas had been thrilled, and had spoke of nothing since with anyone he could get to listen... for an entire _week_. His constant spider companion had scampered off just this morning; scared her master might continue his tirade.

The King consented to Greenleaf traveling to meet up with the Rivendell's party reluctantly. It wasn't until his advisor Yaniul pointed out that it would be better that he choose a guard sentry for Greenleaf, least he sneak out with naught but his spider and run into some vigorous suitors. Thranduil, greatly appeased now at his 'own' brilliant solution, explained that it had been a trap for his Little Leaf so that he would not look like he was going soft. Yaniul, wisely, nodded and agreed with the king, after all he had not become his most trusted advisor without learning a few of the ruler's personality quirks.

After announcing to the Lothlórien elves that the trails would be postponed a week due to the 'slothful planning of Rivendell's lord', they had been left to their own devices. Many of the suitors took this time to find out more about previous Mirkwood trials for the royal family, and any other information they could discover about the elf coming out. To say the least it was a highly frustrating week for all.

* * *

The Rivendell elves arrival was being taken with mixed results. Grudgingly Thranduil would admit that his son's safety was well worth swallowing his pride for once, even if he'd rather spend an evening in the company of orcs, than the Lord of Rivendell. Meanwhile, Legolas was ecstatic and borderline annoying with his enthusiasm. Tathar was displeased with the constant traffic, and masses, it would make it very difficult to train the warriors in crowded quarters. One look at his younger brother though silenced his mentioning these thoughts, as Legolas was practically radiating happiness. Tathar smiled warmly at the young prince, simply happy because he was happy.

* * *

Arwen frowned, well pouted was more correct, her horse was plodding along at a decent pace, but she wished to fly. Her steed could out pace these old farm horses any day, but her father had forbidden her racing. Ever since her brothers had received their own horses, she had been restricted. It was like having a limb cut off. She threw a not so loving look at the twins. They were goofing around, laughing at some private joke that neither was likely to share with her. Arwen's pout er **frown** deepened, it wasn't right!

"Mil lord, what lengths of our journey remain till we reach the realm of Mirkwood?"

Translation: '_Daddy! Are we there yet?_'

Elrond smiled pleasantly at his fair maiden daughter. Cupping her face he smiled tolerantly at her with the patience of a true doting father.

"Our travels shall commence before the sun reaches its zenith, darling daughter."

Arwen preened under the praise. She shot her brothers another dangerous look; it was their fault they were headed to this dank setting. If it weren't for them then she wouldn't be stuck in these miserable rodent infested woods. A spider scuttled by her horse, making it rear up suddenly, Arwen's breath caught in her throat as she gained control of the beast. An arrow shot the creature down not a second later. There was no explanation for the arrow. 'It must have been a boarder guard.' Arwen concluded disdainfully. 'A slothful one if they allowed such a monster to enclose our party.' The party continued on at their snail pace.

Arwen gazed dispassionately out at the woods, highly displeased by the shadowy branches and mysteriousness that permeated the surroundings. 'And Daddy expects me to stay in this dreadful dump?'

* * *

Thranduil settled his mount a few yards from his eager son, near the waning hillsides. Greenleaf was practically bouncing up and down in his saddle. He gave his older son, Tathar, an amused look. The General had a pasted grin on his face for his sibling's benefit, Greenleaf blathering about some story or other, to him, unaware of his disinterest.

The king smiled to him, pleased that Greenleaf was so ecstatic. 'Perhaps I shall have to arrange more of these visitations in the future, since they so delight my Little Leaf.'

It was then that the King realized that his son wouldn't be around forever, not in Mirkwood at least. Soon a suitor would win the hand of the last gift his wife was able to bestow upon him, taking his littlest elfling away. When later confronted about the next few minutes the King would highly deny any signs of teary-eyed-ness that stole his calm. The mere thoughts of losing his baby to some man of an elf were too horrible. Steeling his will to set up the most complex, demanding, taxing drills for Little Leaf's suitors, he wiped the tender feelings from his mind. After all, it wouldn't do for Mirkwood's monarch to fall down at such a pinnacle! Thranduil felt his stomach turn at the creeping in his gut, whatever was to come to pass would not be to his liking.

* * *

Legolas felt a flutter in his stomach as the Rivendell party halted a few arm lengths from their waiting party. Lord Elrond looked on expectantly; seemingly displeased at finally arriving at his destination, or perhaps his displeasure lay more with his disability to delay his arrival. Upon examination, Legolas saw that Arwen did not seem all too pleased to be here either. She was currently staring disinterestedly at the forest floor. Her horse was kicking at the ground in agitation, snorting loudly. Legolas was hurt by her lack of enthusiasm. A frown puckered at Legolas' lips, he had been hoping to befriend the Evening Star. He had heard of her beauty and kindness from his brothers on their return from a brief stay in Lórien. They had spoken of nothing else for weeks, declaring her beauty to be beyond all others in Middle Earth. Legolas had severely doubted his brother's pronouncements, having found they oft spouted off about the distinguishing traits of any elven lass, but he found himself unable to disprove that Arwen's beauty had not been overstated. She was very appealing to the eye, although her attitude did not seem to match. Legolas had held a high interest in the lady's possible friendship, due to what else his brothers had gossiped about. It was said that the only daughter to Lord Elrond was a strong willed, gregarious, adventuresome and daring. Not only that but highly skilled with magic. Legolas had heard much about elven magic, and austerely wished that on his coming out, he would be endowed with magical abilities. It was a fact though, that the Mirkwood elves had not had a magical elf in their blood for over half an Age. The thought of being able to discuss such subjects with someone was highly desirous to the young prince. He stared longingly at the female, hoping for the chance to break the ice.

* * *

Arwen twitched; it felt like someone had his or her eyes on her. A weight had lain on her shoulders soon after her party joined the Mirkwood crew. While her father had exchanged barbs disguised as pleasant commentary with King Thranduil, she had felt as if her every move was being monitored. A quarter of a mile off from palace, according to the twins, she found that she couldn't take it a moment longer. Casting a look about, Elrond's fair daughter searched for her watcher. Her eyes landed on the elf that was riding in the midst of guards with the General. She adverted her gaze at once, feeling a rush of blood to her cheeks. The elf was most handsome, Arwen had met a many elves in her years, but this one was startling. That was saying something from an elf that was praised and courted by the best of the best. His long blonde mane caught the sunlight and gave the look of fine gold. A constant wind was billowing the elf's hair just so, giving him the air of an adventurer. His smooth, ivory complexion left her desirous to reach out and run her hands over his skin. Arwen swallowed, if his hair was treasure, then his eyes were without a doubt jewels. They shone with a naïve innocence that was belied with a mischievous gleam. Her breath caught in her throat, his build was simply perfection. Arwen had to swallow a moan, she would have this elf court her if it was the last thing she did in Mirkwood. Perhaps her stay her would not be such a waste after all.

* * *

Haldir cursed, the wind was making his practice all the more difficult. His arrow had been three inches off the mark, making his score the lowest he'd achieved yet. Due to Lord Elrond's late arrival, and lack of tack in Haldir's opinion, the tournament had been grudgingly postponed. This gave him an entire week of nothing planned. He had spent the most part of the week learning more of the youngest of Mirkwood's royalty. It had yet to pay off, the people seemed to be hiding something. They were all very unenthusiastic to part with any stories of the elf, a rarity amongst elves, who were always open with each other. His brothers had yet to achieve any other information as well. Just the other day they'd been discussing it.

* * *

Flashback

"Brother, have you as of yet, learned any information on this mysterious elf?"

"Nay, except I feel I know why."

"Not again, don't you say that!" the eldest brother, Orophin, had listened to his theory earlier, and found it quite ridiculous.

"Hush, I think the reason that this Mirkwood royal is so unmentioned is because it wasn't a male elf at all! Thranduil's last was a female elf. One that can birth!"

Haldir shot his brother a glare, "Rumil, you know how rare those are. It would be highly unlikely that one such as Thranduil would not be mentioning this constantly, let alone at all. The only way his child would be more unlikely is if it were a _male_ that could give birth."

At this point his brother had conceded, and they continued to joke about what would happen if the "son" really were a maternal elf.

End Flashback

* * *

Haldir shook his head lightly; really his brothers could come up with the oddest situations. Notching his bow again he took aim, the arrow flew true and landed with a thud into…two inches from the inner circle. The Marchwarden grunted and pulled out another arrow, at this skill level he could never compete!

* * *

Thranduil stirred out of his thoughts. Elrond seemed dreadfully pleased; it was at this point that the King of Mirkwood knew it wouldn't be good for him. Things had been rather heated between the two of them for quite a while, and Legolas' coming out party wasn't about to change that any time soon. He scowled at the other elf and held back the urge to growl.

"What is it, if you would be inclined to share, that makes your mood so uplifted, Lord Elrond?"

* * *

Elrond, bursting with giddy energy, sent Thranduil an eat shit grin. He hummed to himself, reining in his emotions. It wouldn't do to have Thranduil throw a hissy fit until they were in front of a large crowd. Elrond tapped his chin thoughtfully; it was very mannish for him to wish to seek vengeance on the King of Mirkwood. He decided that it was one of their better qualities and smirked as he coyly gazed at the other elven ruler.

"Why Thranduil, of course I am willing to share with you, after all it wouldn't be right to keep such good tidings from our host." Here is where he paused for several minutes, until Mirkwood's ruler cleared his throat rudely.

"Oh yes, I was speaking with you, alas I was distracted by the special environment your realm lies in. It has been such a long, long while since I have visited such a place."

Thranduil grit his teeth, frustration apparent to his people, who fled.

"Ah yes, I forget the condition of Rivendell is quite _different_ from Mirkwood. If you have forgotten though, Lord Elrond, we were previously discussing your high spirits."

"Of course, you are right, but perhaps you would enjoy another topic?" He asked demurely, knowing that the King couldn't refuse. 'I haven't had this much fun since last the Grey One came through.'

* * *

The General stared disheartened at the private's news; this was not what he had hoped to hear. While riding slowly back with the Rivendell elves, his lieutenant had approached and informed him that he was required to return at once. Apparently the troops his father had sent out the previous week had come across a horde sighting. There were three legions of orcs gathering, apparently the troops had stumbled upon the meeting grounds of the leaders, it was a miracle that they made it out alive. Tathar was finding the situation less and less to his liking. This was not the behavior of orcs; it reeked of the hand of someone else. The list of possible enemies was daunting; mainly due to an elf's long life span. Many creatures that inhabited Middle Earth felt that it was ignorant of elves to keep their secrets on immortality. Tathar felt the brunt of their misunderstandings, heavy as ever.

Tathar began to question the private once more, going over the details of his account before dismissing him to his other duties. The General rested his chin on his hand as he began to think over the minutiae, there had to be something he was missing, but what was it?

So immersed in his musings that Tathar didn't even notice the arms slip around his chest.

"Mm, Ta when are you coming to bed?"

Tathar leaned back into his mate, shifting his head to the side in order to allow him free access to his neck. Niecal nuzzled at his bonded one's bared neck, littering it with chaste kisses. Tathar tried to recall what had been so important as to keep him away from his mate. When everything refused to come to mind, the General gave up on the concept of thinking, and gave himself over to Niecal. The lieutenant was only too happy to find his mate so willing, and took full control of the situation.

* * *

King Thranduil was practically bursting at the seams, his naturally pale skin had turned an unnatural bright cherry red and strangling the horse's reign was not helping his temperament in the least. Lord Elrond was quite the opposite, sitting regally in his saddle with complete composure. They had just stopped in front of the horse barn when the King could take it any longer. Turning hastily to the lord on his left he growled out loudly.

"Lord Elrond, I must ask as to why seemed to be wholly overjoyed by our small ride through Mirkwood?"

Rivendell's ruler calmly smiled at the King.

"Why King Thranduil, I felt it would be most obvious."

When the King made no move to reply he continued.

"I am sure that you took note of our small numbers." Thranduil nodded, he had indeed been shocked by the few that were riding with the lord. "And understanding that, I am very positive that you will swiftly understand my good mood."

The king was puzzled, how would having so few in the trials affect him at all? It would indeed give his elves a boost in the direction of winning. The small group would allow his Mirkwood elves to easily defeat the Peredhil. Considering the size of Lórien's suitors even combined with the Imladris elves would not even come close to the Mirkwood entrants.

That was when his mistake made itself present. According to the Old Laws, the laws that his realm still followed, only the amount of the smallest group would the hosting realm be allowed to provide, in order to grant a more even playing field. Mirkwood would be forced to be even with Rivendell's scant number!

Elrond smiled sardonically at the other ruler, cackling on the inside at the travesty he made of the king.

* * *

* * *

Thanks everyone who is reading, and reviewed! A thousand apologies for the lateness of this! I promise times a million that the next one will be out MUCH sooner. I don't know why this took so long.

Any suggestions for the next chapter/s are welcome. No guarantees they'll be used, but they might inspire something else!

ALSO I know from reading Harry Potter that people/readers get quite touchy over some details, mainly the colorations characters hold. Now I know in the movie Orlando Bloom had blue eyes but I have read Legolas with just about any and every color eyes. I was personally leaning towards green, but if anyone had any preferences let them be known!

Sorry for any confusion with the General's apparent disappearance. I had written the last bit without thinking that duh, he was with the Rivendell group and then suddenly not! He had Niecal tell him to hurry it up and arrived before them. grins glomps readers waves

Icy

* * *


	7. Insatiable and Anxious Royalty

_Special_, Just Like Everyone Else

Chapter Six

Author: Icy

* * *

Today was the day! It would finally begin; he wouldn't have any more waiting around or delays with practices. The day of Legolas' coming out had at last arrived. Legolas gathered up his clothing as he bounced about the room, heading for a soothing bath. The guard sect sluggishly followed after their prince, wondering at his jubilant energy. After several minutes of the guards glaring at those ogling the prince, they stepped out of the pool area where he dried himself off. Tying up his hair in nine extensive braids and allowing the rest to air dry, Legolas wiggled into his clothes.

All the years of practicing would pay off. Their performance would be before the evening meal, allowing the weary dancers all a well-deserved rest. Legolas felt his stomach plunge, this would be it. There was no more studies, no more chances to improve a misled foot. The ultimate test, his ultimate test. Feeling his knees start to wobble the prince latched onto a wall. His dancing tonight was his true trail. Taking a deep breath he forced himself to continue working his hair.

Legolas slowed again in twisting another braid; he would star in the last dance his mother had ever created. He eased himself up on one of the ledges looking out into the palace's lawns, sighing. He had never known his mother, and often wondered what she had been like. Of course their had been many tales of her bravery and beauty. Elves lived long lives, and so gathered quite a reputation. Legolas just wished that he could have been more of hers rather than the cause of death. Moving slowly, seemingly endless energy suddenly depleted, the seventh prince returned to his guard and headed towards the dance halls.

The director wished to go over a few reminders before speaking with his pupils and then was holding a hydration period. During that time the performers were all required to drink a certain amount of liquids, pending their stage time. Legolas thought queasily of the half quart he had drained the night before.

Waving to a few acquaintances on the way, Legolas peered hesitantly up at the sun, hoping he would not be late. Quirking an eyebrow at some of the lesser dressed elves that were about he smirked widely when his posse passed a pretty performer prancing pass. When he made eye contract though he blushed a deep red and turned his head quickly, becoming beetroot when some of his guards snickered. Sending them a half glare he picked up his pace.

* * *

Niecal drowsily came back to the world of the living, feeling very sated and pleased. He blinked as a beam of sunlight his him in the face, moving over to the balcony for a view of the rising sun. His fingers wrapped around the railing, arms tingling with a morning breeze. Letting the wind muffle his bed hair a soothing feeling passed through him, leaving a peaceful state. Drawling back into the main room, Niecal snuggled back onto the bed.

His mate was still peacefully resting, eyes staring off in dreamland. Lazily drawling pictures on his torso, the lieutenant propped himself up on one elbow. His lips twitched when he saw the mutated features of Tathar. Tracing the elongated fingernails and ear tips he couldn't help it when the grin took over his face. A furry tail wrapped around his forearm, drawling his eyes to those of his General's. Like all members of the Royal family, Tathar's eyes were a brilliant blue. This morning, however, the pupil was spliced vertically and the cornea seemed to fill the rest of his eye socket with a sapphire hue.

"Morning loverrrr" Tathar purred, curling his body around the other elf.

Niecal, used to waking up with an oddly featured mate after a… restless night, ran a hand up Tathar's arm, until he reached behind his ear. Scratching lightly until his lover arched up, a low vibration echoing his pleasure.

Tathar looked at his love with lustful have lidded eyes, licking his lips dramatically he leaned into Niecal, tightly wrapping himself over the other elf.

"Shouldn't you check in to make sure that everything is running smoothly for tonight?"

The prince gave his mate an irritated glare, seeming to fluff up his nonexistent fur, muscles stiffing. Niecal ran a hand over his board-like body, trying to loosen him up. Deeply kissing Tathar and distracting the prince from a foul mood, Niecal went to get clothes.

Tathar reluctantly peered up at Niecal, upset that he couldn't lie in bed. Rolling out in smooth movements and grabbing a change for the day he went to the bathhouse.

Niecal chuckled deeply before heading out with his lover. He had long since learned of some quirks the royal family held, as the bonded of the sixth prince of Mirkwood, the King having taken him aside to explain things to him the morning after their consummation. It was a day he would never forget, a nervous King of Mirkwood was not an everyday sight.

* * *

::::::Flash Back::::::

* * *

Niecal felt slightly queasy, Tathar had just disappeared into the Thrown Room, to announce to his father that he was engaged to Niecal and that they wished to be bonded. A loud roar had echoed from the room and the guards had rushed forward to see what had caused the commotion. Niecal, fearing for his love's life had also run into the Thrown Room…to see the General wrapped up in the King's arms. Relief had passed through him like chili through a diner.

It wasn't until later, after he passed through all the challenges and trials that he had been allotted a viewing with the King. He'd walked into the King's personal viewing room in his own quarters and had the most uncomfortable three hours of his life trudge by. A painfully embarrassing situation for both elves, covering the oddities a Royal Elf possessed, including but not only the sexual tendencies and affects. While he had been rather interested in the after effects, the descriptions of the acts had caused him to turn eight new colors of red. After covering all of the influences that would come by becoming General Tathar, sixth Prince of the Mirkwood realm's mate. The King had been on edge the whole time, a flush covering his cheekbones the entire time.

Niecal thought he would just about die when his king asked him about his sexual experience and past, including any past partners and those involved. Then at the end Thranduil had asked if he had any questions for him. The lieutenant had vigorously shaken his head and asked to be dismissed; Thranduil had been all to ready to call the meeting to an end and had dismissed him at once. Both had fled from the room and couldn't make eye contact until the day that Niecal and Tathar had been bond together.

* * *

::::::End Flash Back:::::::

* * *

Niecal didn't answer his mate when he asked why he was suddenly so flushed, merely shaking his head rapidly and dumping a bucket of water over his head. When he had began to feel comfortable with discussing with his mate what had gone on that day Tathar had busted up in laughter and continued to tease him mercilessly for weeks. There was no chance he'd give him more ammunition.

As he paced back in forth in his personal library his robes trailed behind him, waving on his councilor to speed it up.

"…serendipity gains a lesser perspective due to the volatile nature genially associated with any and all participants or those who agreed previously to involve themselves and other parties, in the distinctive trials laid before said parties and participants in a secondary law decreed by the imperative and high sovereigns."

The ruler glared and motioned for Yaniul to skip to the vital part.

"Due to such overwhelming odds it has been deemed that forever more any number, secluding other entrants, but not withholding the hosting lands, must remain in a similar grouping but may not exceed the lowest entrants from any certain realm, lest shall a repeat of the melodrama housed in the realm…"

"Enough!" roared the king, who continued pacing at a faster rate. Yaniul looked on, unimpressed with the king's display. "Have you found it?"

Yaniul bowed to his ruler somewhat ironically, "As of yet, your highness, we have been unable to locate any such ambiguity that would all such a loophole as you require to release you from such a state."

The king glared at his most trusted councilor member and closest friend. "A simple no would have sufficed."

Yaniul shot him a winning smile, ducking down and reading the scrolls once he turned back to him. Piles of books and pamphlets littered the tables; all had previously been searched through. Yaniul grabbed for more reading material, resting his eyes for a few moments as they had started reading hours before the sun had even set.

As soon as protocol had allowed the king to sneak off from the Rivendell party, he had come to his quarters to find a way out of what Lord Elrond declared. Later Yaniul had come with reports about the troops that had been sent out, and upon finding his ruler throwing random books at the floor, yelling. The servants had fled his wing, unsure how to deal with their violate leader.

Now, the day of they had long waited, the beginning of Mirkwood's youngest adult life, would start.

As a father, Thranduil was like a man desperate for the last cream filled pastry, unable to find even jam bread. Since the beginning of their combined efforts, they had been rabidly going throw all and any materials they could concern the laws and rules concerning the coming out of a royal. As of yet, no way to allow more entries for the host realm had been uncovered. Rubbing gently at his eyes, the elder elf gazed at the land's leader. Warmth filled his bosom; a more diligent father would be hard to come by. Tearing his gaze from the distressed elf before him, Yaniul's gazed dipped to the papers held in his unsteady hands. He didn't wish to disappoint his friend, the councilor didn't want think what the King would go through if his son were to bond with one of Elrond's elves. The young elf was one of the last living reminders that the King had of his departed wife. Failing his beloved ruler wasn't an option.

Picking up another scroll his eyes landed on some interesting.

"Milord, I believe I have found something that would catch your interest."

Thranduil looked up, face breaking out into a delighted smile. Yaniul felt a warm feeling fill his body at his friend's reaction, a warm flush coloring his face.

"Yaniul are you feeling alright old friend? You look red."

Yaniul turned a shade deeper, shaking his head forcefully. "No, no, I'm fine. Never felt better milord."

"How many times must I tell you? You're part of the family, call me by my name." Resting a hand on his shoulder he gave him another warm smile.

Trying to distract the dictator from his complexion he pointed to the paragraph of his finding; ignoring the elated feeling that rose within him at the king's movements.

* * *

Lord Elrond gave the servant a peculiar look when she winked rather boldly at him. She scurried off, giggling with another maiden and blushing furiously. Mirkwood truly was a strange land.

Making sure that his door was firmly closed, the lord began to strip of his clothes. Drifting into the next room, he sank into the bathing pool. As he soaked in the hot water, muscles relaxing from the heat, the Lord gloated. It wasn't every day that someone was able to pull one over the King of Mirkwood; he was notorious for his quick mind and ruthless revenge. Even for petty inconveniences, such as interrupting a party, were punished severely. Not two decades ago the zealous monarch had imprisoned a troop of wandering Men.

Long ago the heated competition had reached the boiling point between the two rulers, uncomfortable for all those around Elrond and Thranduil. Forcing the King to lessen his numbers would gall Thranduil for decades. Elrond allowed a smug grin stretch across his sharp features. Sinking lower into the steaming water, he swirled his fingers through it.

This eve's activities would be most enjoyable. Mirkwood was notorious for their celebrations, one such said to have gone on for twelve weeks straight. Elrond's mind still boggled at how a realm could withstand such acts.

* * *

Vibrant blossoms unfurled with the sun's rays, taking the breath away from the elves visiting the gardens. Mirkwood's woods often appeared to visitors as a dark and dank dwelling… until they came to the palace grounds and learned of the majestic gardens. Songs echoed from the halls and music floated from the woods as preparations were being completed for the celebration. Four immaculately dressed maids had scampered past, muttering about being late for practice while furiously adjusting shoes that hardly fit their costumes as warriors. One baker was even jovially dispending a novice by waving a loaf of bread.

Ignoring the strange customs of this strange realm, the three brothers continued their conversation.

"…perhaps we are simply asking the wrong questions, there must be a way to loosen their tongues." Orophin offered, idly swinging a leg over the bench. His gaze shifted from the sky to his _more_ levelheaded brother.

Haldir looked doubtfully, Rumil gave him a dirty grin while hooking his legs over the branch and swinging down so he could rock back and forth on the tree branch. "Perhaps you are correct, for once brother, there should be a simple answer for this, and yet it alludes us like a prudent maiden."

Haldir, nestled in the grass, rolled his eyes at his brothers. That's when it hit him. "Of course!" His shout knocked Rumil from his perch in the tree. Several broken branches and thumps along with a loud 'OUCH' were the herald of Rumil's fall. He looked dizzily up at his older brothers.

Smirking down at him Haldir couldn't help but prod him a little, "You know, we always did say that would happen one day. Orophin, dearest brother, I do believe you own me a new bow."

A scowl passed over both of their faces and they sourly waited for Haldir to finish. When he did not answer for several moments they finally lost all patients with their smug sibling and pounced on him.

"Perhaps, sweet **ticklish** brother, you would care to tell us what left Rumil falling from the trees?"

"His severe lack of grace and balance?" Rumil prodded him in the ribs, looking at him meaningfully.

"The answer was so simple, it would be as if we had mistaken the Lady for an orc."

"If you do not tell us soon, I fear we will be forced to tickle you."

Haldir didn't look convinced until Orophin started attacking his arms and Rumil his stomach. It only took an undignified squeal from the Captain of the Guard to dissuade him from teasing his brothers any longer.

" Who have we so recently met upon our arrival in this murky kingdom?" Without giving Rumil or Orophin a chance to start up again, he continued. "The General! Tathar would be high up enough that he could be very well acquainted with the Royal family."

Rumil gapped at him that answer **was** obvious, why hadn't they thought of it? Tathar had sat with them for a few meals during their week long over, and had become swift friends. Rumil recalled on their second meeting at the archery pitch him wishing to introduce them to his youngest brother. They never had met him, though Tathar often spoke fondly of the elf. Rumil recalled with a grin, the story he'd told them the other day of his brother leading a herd of butterflies carrying dye bombs into the thrown room during a meeting of the councils. Apparently the King had been green for a week.

Releasing Haldir, Rumil stood, dusting off his clothing in an attempt to not appear as if he had just tumbled out of a tree…and then rolled about like a pig in the dirt. He tried to at least.

"What are we to be doing today?"

Haldir had to stop to think for a moment, trying to remember any important events that would require their presence. "Lord Celeborn merely requests us to join him during the dancing tonight, and the feast afterwards."

Orophin bounced on the balls of his feet, "That's not for hours yet, let's discover what the General is up to, perhaps he will be willing to clue us in on the Coming Outtee."

The trio dashed off to find Tathar, barely missing a large party of elves that seemed to be trailing one elf. Haldir tried to locate who was so important, only catching a brief glance of the elusive Greenleaf before a guard was right up in his face.

"All males must retain a certain distance from the prin—" the female started, glaring hard at the Lórien elf.

A hand landed on her shoulder, halting her from yelling at the visiting trio.

* * *

* * *

* * *

The long update was due to…I'm not sure really. I've had this done a while, it's just been sitting on my computer. Really, I wanted to give it a good look over before posting it, so I may change this one later on. Right now I don't know why, but I just can't read the whole thing through. The next chapter already has a great deal done. I'm working on the dance scene. looks frantic I've never danced in my life and have no clue how, why did I say he'd dance? clueless look Ugh, hopefully it all turns out well, wish me luck. This may a take a while, school has started up again, and I'm taking six classes this semester. dodges raised eyebrows Yea, I know I'm craaaazy. I'm inspired though! grins

For all that were wondering the dance WILL be in the next installment, along with another run in between our two favorites! Plus I'm planning on including the feast. So it shall all be quite entertaining. More so than these ones have been.

grins glomps reviewers waves

Later yo,

Icy


	8. Fluttering Feats

_Special_, Just Like Everybody Else  
Author: Icy  
Ch.7

-

Legolas placed a hand on his guard's shoulder to stop her from harassing a guest. Sure it was their responsibility to protect him from enemies and unwanted suitors but to assault random elves was getting ridiculous. Not that he saw his father's over protective rules regarding the company he kept as sane. Why did he have to have limited company when his brothers had such free unrestricted visitors? Why were they so special?

Snorting at his thoughts he flushed under the strange looks he received. Deciding to switch the conversation in a more Legolas friendly direction he cleared his throat.

"Now I'm sure that he didn't mean anything by it, did you sir?"

The elf before Legolas was the same one from the kitchen, and his singing lesson, and his garden. That smug elf that was so cold to him. The prince groaned inwardly, he'd just saved this fool from the danger of overprotective Mirkwood guards. It just figured that he would come across trouble like this on his celebration day. Growling at his own stupidity he merely gestured for his sect of guards to continue. Before they could move on though the elves stood in front of him.

"Greenleaf, where is Tathar?" one of them asked.

"Rumil!" chastened another. They looked liked the elves his brother had planned on showing him the day after his singing lessons with Yaniul. It seemed so long ago but it hadn't even been years but days that he had snuck out to see the Lothlórien elves. Shaking his head he scowled only those closest to him referred to him as such. Legolas was too shocked to be addressed by them so informally. It had originated from a nickname his mother had given him before passing.

:::::A Birthing Years Ago:::::

An elf lay in a bed, face very flush. Her breathing was coming in quick pants, hands clenching the bed sheets.

"Oooh Thranduil you worm!"

A blonde elf near her side winced. "You out of my sight!"

The king began to inch away from her, afraid of what to do. It wasn't a second later she was screeching for him to stand by her side like the elf that he was suppose to be. He gulped and moved back towards her side, scooping up her hand.

"Uuuuuh! He's coming! Oooh, where's that laaaaazy ooouch, miiiidwiiife! Son of an orc!"

A chubby elf passed through the door and set right to work, ignoring the cringing husband and screeching wife. Recognizing her as the midwife Thranduil stood by his beloved's side, stroking her hand.

Halfway through the birth the midwife called in more assistance, beckoning for more support. It wasn't until their numbers had more than doubled and the bedding was being constantly replaced that the king became worried. None of the other births that his wife had gone through seemed to last this long or cost so much in lifeblood. It wasn't until a time of great mourning had pasted that Thranduil realized just how bad things had gone.

The doctor pulled the king aside, trying to explain the situation to his ruler as easily as he could, but Thranduil was having none of that. Once he grasped that his beautiful, spirited and loving wife would no longer gaze at the rising of the sun, nor share the night's last kiss with him any longer, he emptied the room of everyone. Before departing a nursemaid propped the tiny baby elf in her king's arms.

Approaching her bedside he didn't even glance at the bundle in his arms. Her knowing silver eyes looked wearily up at her husband, giving him a reassuring smile. The queen lifted her arms up, wishing to hold their baby. Running her fingers over his tiny blonde head, and fiddling with his tiny toes and fingers she blinked as tears trailed down her face; knowing she'd never be around to see the beautiful elf he'd become. Never see him as he bonded and had elflings of his own. Neither would the ruler view his awkward adolescent centuries. Her little boy would grow into a strapping young elf without her influence, she was leaving this world; so very swiftly.

"My…little…Greenleaf, I won't be there for you…but your father always will. I…love you."

Thranduil breathed in deeply as tears trailed his cheeks, grief so overpowering at the touching moment of a mother bidding farewell to her newborn. His mind froze, how should he react, what should he be doing? Was there something he could do to stop this, turn back the time. This couldn't be happening. He felt his heart seem to stop, know understanding why couples often followed one another into the next world. How would he ever life without her? He couldn't, there was nothing left for him in this life. It was over. He would join his adored one. Decision made he almost missed her last words.

" 'rand," she gasped as pain racked her body, his attention refocused," make sure you watch over my Greenleaf. Be there for him."

Thranduil froze, his dear wife had known what he had planned to do and _stopped_ him. Why would she? As he gazed down at her his gaze fell upon the bundle that had caused him such a great lose. For some reason though he could not hate this elfling. No matter that he had robbed him of his bonded one. His hands shook as they reached down and plucked up the newborn.

As his finger grazed the cheek, startlingly alert deep blue eyes followed him movements. When they met his own a smile found its way to his face. "My Little Greenleaf, Legolas Greenleaf. Yes, that is what you shall be called little one."

------

Only after Legolas flustered his teacher by asking where little elves came from and having it explained to him and the prince began questioning why he had no mother; did his father take time out and explain it to him. Having learned the name bestowed on him by the mother he never knew, Legolas treated it as an incomparable treasure, gifting few with the privilege to use it.

Someone he didn't directly know calling him by this name was enough to make him see red but being stressed from the upcoming dance he was about to pounce. Gritting his teeth he took several deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. It wasn't working.

"Excuse me, I'm sure I heard incorrectly," Legolas said frostily, employing every fiber of snotty behavior he could, " I could have sworn you just called me—"

A midnight haired maiden stepped up to Legolas, linking her arm around his waist.

"Guess who got back three days early!"

The prince stopped mid rant, words stuck in his throat as he looked to his side. Myiseth, one of his closest friends, was grinning widely up at him. Face paint decorated her features beautifully, her mother was known for her skill and had passed on many of her talents to her daughter. The warrior's long hair was wrapped back into four braids, all very hard won in battles defending Mirkwood. She was in one of the few battalions his father must have recalled to restore the energy and disposition.

Forgetting about the slip up from the Lórien elves he continued onto the dance, chatting enthusiastically catching up on what had been going on since they had last parted ways. Or it seemed he had forgotten until he turned around and shot the brothers a nasty look.

--

An unnatural hush fell over the crowd of Mirkwood, Rivendell and Lothlórien elves; a mix of royalty, warriors and commoners. The King and his family fixed their gaze on the stage, awaiting the appearance of their Little Leaf.

Eight elflings pranced out to the middle. They all had bright smiles on their faces, slowly and in unison they began to chant softly. As the tempo was set more and more elves were gathering on stage. The beat sent their bodies twisting and twirling in magnificent patterns. The beats were slowly twining together, created solely by those on stage.

Legolas took a deep breath, steeling himself for the performance he was about to give. This would be it. His knees felt weak and head airy. Clutching the curtains he watched as others fell into their places, picking up the tempo slightly. Legolas felt a hand land on his arm, jerking over he looked to see who it was. A thin elf with iron hair grinned at him, recognizing him as one of his many dance partners Legolas tried to return the smile, albeit shakily.

"Your performance shall outshine us all, Greenleaf. You needn't worry."

Legolas felt himself rise up, and stand taller upon hearing the praise. "Thanks Areith."

Areith nodded, the peak of the performance arrived, and he pushed the prince on stage as their cue was signaled. Legolas joined the throng. A circle was created around him of moving bodies. Legolas never stopped; his entire body was constantly in motion.

Legolas flew across the stage, feet a moving with a fury all their own. Several pseudo suitors approached Legolas as he danced, but to the viewers his quick thinking and moves spared him an unwanted pairing, bringing him out of reach of them all. Some double team methods were used with swift actions, while a few of the other dancers grouped even more but Legolas leaped over them in easily. The audience gave appreciative gasps as the blonde dancer leapt higher and higher into the air.

It was truly a sight to behold. Flexing his legs and bending backwards, Legolas allowed himself to be pounced upon by Areith. The iron-haired elf winked, softly releasing his catch.

His body twisted and his feet glided. The tempo slowed until only the dancers feet tapping on the ground could be heard, keeping a beat all their own. The failed and rejected suitors fell away. It was truly amazing to see such astounding feats of aerobics. Legolas felt his body bend and twirl in ways he wouldn't have thought possible before he began to learn the steps to this dance. Now though, as he curved his spine, he could only imagine the creativity that was required to create these moves.

As a pair of arms lifted him up into the air for the last scene he felt his spirit soar. He wasn't about to mess up; this was going just as they'd practiced. Sure a few elves had made minor mistakes but the dance was still beyond description. Legolas was surprised at the scenery; it was so bright and cheery. There were lights glowing, their flashing adding to the atmosphere. The prince had to blink a few time, it was still very bright out. Only outlines of the crowd showed up though his blue eyes focused on his partners as they pranced before him.

While he faced off with his final partner, smaller elflings pranced about in a wide circle. His feet carried him through the last steps, his mind fly. This had been exhilarating. All the elves sprang to the stage for one last bow. The crowd roared appreciatively. A swelling of pride filled his bosom.

-

Tathar sat with his family and a fewer of the high up suitors and visitors. He applauded liberally with the crowd grinning wildly. He leaped from his seat and wiggled through the masses to the stage. Leaping up he grinned and grabbed his brother in a bear hug. Swinging him around until Legolas' feet left the ground. Several elves had stopped congratulating their friends and family to and were now looking on to the two royals.

"Caaal!' bleated Legolas, glomping him in an attempt to slow down the spinning. The prince stopped and laughed heartily at his brother's antics. A few more friends came up to compliment him on his performance and a job well done. Legolas' other brothers came up as well, patting him on the back and hugging him. All seven blondes were milling about one another. It was not often the royal family was all in one place at the same time. Often duty called and dragged more than one of them off to far corners of the kingdom. Tathar smiled as he watched his little brother bask in the glow. Even rarer than getting together was when the attention was given solely to one of them, though not especially Greenleaf.

-

Haldir looked up at the stage in shock. He did not think that the General would make up with his husband so swiftly. As he appraised the wanton Greenleaf, the Marchwarden began to see why forgiveness would be so fast in coming. Wetting his lips he tore his gaze from the stage to his brothers as the both elbowed him roughly.

Tearing his eyes from the sight on stage he looked crossly at them. Orophin had a raised eyebrow, questioning his brother's sanity, why was he so openly gawking at Tathar and his mate? Rumil had a grin on his features.

"Just what were you thinking?" Rumil asked. Before he could answer him Orophin butted in. "Perhaps, brother, we should be asking the General about the elusive one Thranduil is throwing this celebration for, instead of standing around gaping about."

Haldir paused before answering; unsure himself of what had been crossing his mind. There was no way that he could have been lusting after the treacherous Greenleaf? True his outside was quite beautiful, stunning. Haldir would be lying if he didn't admit that he was enchanted, but he had been disloyal to his bonded, his life mate. No, he couldn't have been watching the blondes.

"I was thinking."

"Yes well it can be hard the first time." Rumil smirked.

Haldir scoffed. "How should you know?" Rumil pouted but Orophin poked him in his puffed up cheek.

Haldir coughed, hoping to drag their attention back to their original topic. Motioning he lead them through the joyous crowd, unknowingly toward the seven royal princes of Mirkwood.

-

After having freed himself from his brother, family, and friends not least of all admirers, Legolas collapsed in his room. Gwibess scuttled about the floor, watching her master in concern. Groaning quiet loudly Legolas rolled onto his back, stretched out on his bed.

Soon he would need to start picking out his finery for tonight. His father said that tonight he would be representing all of Mirkwood at the feast. It wasn't often that his father would lay such responsibility on his shoulders. Not wanting to disappoint him, or his people, he opted to gain the help of Myiseth. When they met up before the recital he asked if she would be willing to help him with his appearance that night.

Taking out his tunic he began the lengthy progress of dressing. His friend Myiseth would be arriving in a few moments to help with his hair and face painting.

"Pft traditions." Legolas scoffed, buckling on an ornate dagger. Some of these family customs were surly outdated. He looked down at his clothing, lined with many jewels and riches. His father's obsession was obvious.

When he finished dressing Legolas decided that if he was representing all of Mirkwood tonight their guests might get the wrong impression, especially because he looked like a blob of golden coins and jewels stuck on someone. He was about to give up when one of his guards knocked on his door.

"Myiseth is requesting permission to enter your rooms, my prince."

"Allow her entrance." Legolas commanded, facing the doors as the opened. A raven-haired maiden bounced into his living area, smiling broadly. His eyes widened in fear at the mischief reflecting in her own. Backing up a step he accidentally fell against his bed.

"That's right, just plop your derriere down and prepare to be amazed."

"I have a feeling I should be afraid, very afraid." He gasped, Myiseth pulled at his shirt with something akin to disgust.

"Just what **are** you wearing Greenleaf? This looks like it belongs in your father's treasure wing, not plastered to your body."

"Tell me about it." Muttered the prince. "I want to make a good impression on the visiting elves."

She snorted, rather loudly and highly unladylike, "You mean the visiting _suitors_." Legolas sniffed, turning his head but not verbally denying her retort. Letting it drop Myiseth dove into his closet, basically trashing it and flinging just about every tunic, leggings, belts, robes and just about everything else a prince might need to wear for an occasion about his room. Cringing at the thought of having to clean this up Legolas tried to focus instead on what his friend would choose for him to wear. Just when he was started to worry she might have gotten lost and attack by a random dust bunny he popped out of his closet.

"Coming out of the closet are we?"

Sticking out her tongue she hefted up the outfit she had in mind. "So…you likey?"

Legolas looked over it. A pair of light gray leggings along with a silver tunic trimmed with emeralds and viridian stitching. Soft slate boots and his hoary ancient circlet in hand. Nodding his head he snagged the outfit and disappeared into another room. "What have you heard of the suitors Seth?"

Biting her lip the warrior stalled. "How does it fit? Better than the last 'outfit'?"

"It feels a bit snug. Much better though." There was a pause as the prince walked back in, outfit on. Slowly looking over her friend, head to toe giving him a once over. Motioning with her hand for him to turn around he awkwardly he did so, feeling oddly vulnerable.

"Will…will it do?"

"The real judge isn't my reaction but the suitors." Myiseth said with a wink. "Though if petitions were being accepted by females I'd sign up!" Legolas quickly felt a flush fill his cheeks at her lavish praise.

"Yes well we best get started on your hair, wouldn't want your ego getting too big, now would we?"

---

The long awaited dance performance! Hope it didn't go over like a lead balloon. Never actually seen a dance…or been all too proficient at it, so hope everyone enjoyed!

I was looking over my stats when I noted that I hadn't updated this in FOREVER. I didn't realize how lazy I'd been until now. I sat down after that over Turkey Day break and wrote until this was complete. I'm kinda ashamed that this took so long.

Thank you everyone who took the time to review and respond to my concerns. I really appreciate reviews, they make my day. Plus it makes me feel guilty for not updating! A major plus for readers! grins

I'll have another chapter up before the year's end! Promise.

_grins glomps readers waves_  
Later yo,  
Icy


	9. Pickling the Goose

Chapter Eight

* * *

Thranduil placed his crown securely on his head, leaving his servants in his wake as he left his chambers. As another servant opened the door in front of him he nodded in acknowledgment, passing him as well. His robes flowed around him as he marched down to the feast room. Several wandering elves bowed swiftly as he went along. The king felt his ego swell. The hallways never seemed so short, as soon as he reached the feasting room and met up with Legolas the celebration would begin. His baby elf was growing up.

Standing outside the door in stunning glory was Prince Legolas, seventh son of King Thranduil of the Mirkwood realm; one of fifty-seven maternal elves living in the kingdom. Though the land under Thranduil's rule was very expansive, the rarity of males birthed with the ability to repeat the act was so very small. Now his Little Leaf was old enough to find his bonded, his mate, his husband. And he was in the next room. Stepping up to his son he extended his arm, Legolas it with his own as the guards eased open the doors. A large smile was plastered over Legolas's face, finally the day had come, he felt he'd burst if he'd have to wait any longer. His weariness from dancing was replaced with a glee and excitement for the celebration of his future. His blue eyes scanned the crowds, looking over his guests and their activities and outfits. Everyone was glammed up, sporting a wide selection of jewelry and the richest of fabrics. Hair was twisted and twined in the highlights of current fashion, drinks being liberally downed with bites of succulent foods.

As the royal duo made their way to the front of the room eyes flashed their way, locking on and watching their journey. Whispers began to fill the room as the two joined the royal family on an elevated stage. Legolas took a seat next to his brother, Tathar, smiling widely at them all. A twitchy feeling developed in his gut, and he staved off the urge to wring his hands. Forcing himself to calm, the prince returned to elf watching, waiting for the reactions to his father's announcements.

* * *

Tathar smirked at his older brothers when Legolas chose to sit by him. Leaning over to whisper something to Niecal. As his father, Thranduil, cleared his thoart to gain the attention of the room, he sat back in his chair, idly fidgeting with his signet ring. He was one of the views in the family that wore the ring in the customary place, on his finger. Mostly his older siblings had them fashioned into other forms of jewelry, though his eldest brother and heir to the throne, Rië, also wore the ring on his finger, as did his father. The signet ring was a symbol used by those from the lines that ruled Mirkwood. Each one was personalized. Tathar grinned as he recalled the form his third older brother had for his ring, while he thought it made a beautiful earring, he recalled quite clearly the mood it had put his father in, and was curious as to the form Legolas would wish to have for his own ring. When an elf of royal birth came of age he received the materials to form the ring. The General was shaken from his thoughts as his father began his speech on enjoying the party and praising his youngest for this monumental occasion.

* * *

At the close of the speech, Haldir let his eyes roam. The King was quite the charmer when he deemed fit it seemed. Looking over those gathered, the Marchwarden couldn't help but locate the swiftest exits, calculating the effort it would take to reach them. As his eyes passed the stage where King Thranduil stood he froze, the elusive Greenleaf was sitting there next to the General. This would not usually drawl his attentions but those on stage were all somehow related or connected to the royal family. Why would the General and his mate also join them? Resolving the issue with Mirkwood having different protocol, he snatched up his drink and toasted with the rest of the crowd. Now would come the games.

Haldir shifted partners throughout the dance, feeling the tempo spike viscously with the swap. He was so wrapped up in not stepping on the other's feet that he nearly did when he was greeted.

"Ah, Haldir, I hope your eve has been joyous."

Haldir's silvery eyes jolted up and froze at the sight before him, the General.

"Tathar," he smiled at the other elf, "yes, quite a celebration I have never before attended. This has been a night to remember for decades to come."

Tathar's head bobbed, unable to reply because of the dance movements.

* * *

"Now for all worthy candidates."

A small elf toddled out to the middle of the floor, a large box in his grasp. Once he reached the middle of the floor and set the box down he turned around and toddled as fast as he could back to the sidelines, yelping as less organized and momentarily graceless elves flung themselves towards the middle of the room, parchments closely gripped in their palms.

* * *

Legolas felt his muscles tense at the tsunami of offers crashing his way, via the box. Were so many willing to bond with one they did not know? Did he want to bond with someone such as that? The prince bit his lip in anxiety. Did he really want to tie himself to one of these elves for all of eternity? Was he willing to hand over the control of such a huge part of his life to the council? Legolas felt his stomach turn to lead and a sour taste in the back of his mouth, surpressing it he sickly watched as the 'well-mannered and well-bred' elves scrambled over one another shove their scrolls in the large highly decorated box.

* * *

Arwen grinned in amusement; bachelors she decided were the most amusing race in Middle Earth. Without a doubt. She glanced about the room, taking in the shocked expression on Legolas' face, smiling at his discomfort. Perhaps she should attempt to…comfort him. Her smile contorted in a more evil expression, a low cackle bursting out of her lips before she could stop it. As soon as she regained control of herself she gave herself whiplash turning side to side to see if anyone had caught her doing so. Elhorir was eyeing her oddly, edging his chair away from his sister. Coughing in a belated attempt to cover up, Arwen began devising her plan.

* * *

At the close of the evening Legolas could not believe his night. So many dances and dishes. The blonde was still all a whirl; he still couldn't grasp the events. Everything was happening so quickly. The first two thousand years of his life had gone by so slowly, almost a snail's pace; and now the past few days had been a blur, speeding by so quickly that he could barely keep up.

"I have a feeling that it won't be slowing down anytime soon either." Muttered Legolas, scribbling in his dish of pudding.

"What was that brother?" Treyol asked, the eldest Mirkwood prince; with a kind smile on his face and a hand on Greenleaf's shoulder.

Legolas felt a light flush fill his cheeks. "Nuthin', Trey." He murmured.

"If you ever have the need to speak, I am here for you. Always."

Unsure of how to reply, Legolas merely nodded and continued to look down into his pudding.

* * *

Yaniul gently unlatched the box, aware of Legolas' sensitive nature towards the selection of his future bonded. It would not due to be callous in the young prince's moments of need. Ever since the birth of the King's last, he'd taken an interest in raising and caring for the elfling. Thranduil and his sons had become the closest thing to a family he had.

The small group was tense with the knowledge that the youngest royal's mate was to be found within the ornate box before them. With a few words from the King, speaking of his trust in their judgment and character, a servant moved forward to begin passing out the parchments.

* * *

Four hours later, the council was still going through the offers. Every elf had to be examined and weighed. Were they compatible with Mirkwood? Would this lead to a strong alliance? What have they to offer Mirkwood? Are they capable of handling an elf such as the prince? On and on the questions left, every angle examined before one suitor could be rejected or accepted. There would be only three positions for the final round.

* * *

Legolas paced around his garden, too nervous to puttering around or weed the shrubs. For once Gwibess, was off on an adventure of her own, a mission to retrieve some desserts before dinner. The prince knew that his future mate was being examined by the council, and couldn't help but feel jittery. As a prince it was his responsibility to create alliances with other kingdoms, especially considering the kingdom's situation, the fastest solution was matrimony. With his eligibility now there was no reason for Legolas not to benefit his homeland. He just wished he had more of a hand in the alliance. The prince was still naïve enough to hope for someone that was willing to care for him, perhaps one day love him. Like the love his parents had.

A hand landed on his shoulder and Legolas jerked out from under it. He looked up into the shocked face of his guard. "I meant no disrespect my prince, only to make you aware."

Legolas couldn't keep the confused look off his face, "Of what?" He felt a heat rise in his face as the guards exchanged looks.

"Of the messenger Prince." Forcing the color from his face, the blonde turned towards the stoic messenger.

"The council has made a motion to towards your future mate."

* * *

Not a very interesting chapter, but the next will have some more humor and gaffes.


	10. Wayward Return

Chapter Ten

---

Legolas couldn't wrap his mind around the idea; his life mate would be one of four different elves that the council had chosen. The elf he would be spending the rest of eternity with, all of his days in Middle Earth and beyond. When he sailed the seas it would be by this one's side. He couldn't help but feel a squiggle of indecisiveness and fear. What would his husband be like? Legolas snorted, he was being silly; he knew what type of elf he would be. The council would have to pick someone who not only was capable and excelled but a male that impressed even them, as his characteristics and traits would be passed on to the future generations of elves.

He would have to be brave and smart, along with being strong enough to protect his mate and the children. The prince couldn't keep the smile off his face as he thought about that. Children. He was going to have his own little ones. Absent-mindedly the blonde ran a hand over his flat stomach. In the years to come it would become round with his elflings. Would his mate love the pitter-patter of little feet? Maternal elves were a rarity, but not all elves enjoy children. Legolas could easily recall an older elf that had been in his father's court that had despised young. Whenever the young prince had come near the elf he would curse youth and demand that Legolas keep his distance, like he was a plague that men often caught. At the time it had been most distressing, but his brothers had taken him aside and comforted him. Treyol had demanded his removal from the Mirkwood court, banning him from returning. As Heir, his father accepted the decision and respected his opinion.

A grin found its way to Legolas' handsome face. He loved his brothers, they always went out of their way to help him and protect their youngest brother. Each of them understood that while Legolas was different didn't mean that it made him weak, just special.

0000

When the messenger departed, Legolas found his way to the council's location, dodging the smiling faces and congratulations on his performance with as much grace as he could muster.

Before he could make it there, another message came with more word from the council. His father had changed his mind in seeking him out, and bid his youngest son to rest for a while before the council came to a decision.

Legolas had snorted at the idea of rest when his future hung so precariously in the balance, but headed towards his lodging without much ado.

0000

Haldir paced his room, the lodgings that had been given to his family were truly marvelous, and the epitome of comfort but he for some unattainable reason sleep wouldn't claim him. His mind kept doing the most odd thing; it wouldn't allow him to forget how stunning the General's mate had been that night. How utterly devastatingly captivating he had been. For the life of him Haldir could not place these feelings, these feelings that in all truth shouldn't exist. This beauty had been claimed, perhaps if he had come decades before then the blonde would have been an option, but as it was he was here to win the hand to the youngest Mirkwood Royalty. His marriage would lead to a strengthening in the bonds between the two kingdoms.

The Lothlórien elf had a feeling that the unexpected attack on his party hadn't been as shocking to those of Mirkwood. They hadn't a hand in the attack, but no doubt that there was something going on that would require the bonds this unity would forge. Haldir had heard whispers of an enemy wizard attacking the kingdom but had put it out of his mind at once, how ridiculous. The soldier caught spewing such nonsense had been sentence to three months of latrine duty. Suffice to say that such gossip had been put to an end at once. While elves loved to socialize, they preferred not to have to do latrine duty for any amount of time more.

Setting his mind on more peaceful subjects that Tathar's mate, Haldir's breathing began to even out and he begun to sleep. A slow smile curving up as he faded.

0000

Tathar gathered a few of the scrolls off of the table before his eldest brother, leaning back into a seat across from the Heir. "Anything of spectacular note thus far?"

Rië Treyol, First son of Thranduil and Heir to the Mirkwood Throne shot his younger brother a humorless grin, shaking his head in disbelief. "Half of these suitors would be more qualified to take the thrown than I, yet I fear they lack in what being bonded to little Greenleaf would demand of them." He tossed the scroll he'd been reading back to the desk before him, leaning back into his chair and sending Tathar an exhausted look.

As Heir he was an honorary Council Member, and thus required to review a portion of the applications for Legolas' hand. Due to the specific nature of the youngest prince the rigorous tendencies had been upped quite a bit by the rest of the council. Legolas was a maternal elf, and as such he was capable of producing elflings. This was a great potential in the realm of the elves, thus it should not be wasted. Mirkwood's youngest would have the strictest of trials, demanding only the best suited for his hand would be capable of passing, eliminating any that were incompetent. Rië Treyol knew that this would be the most important decision he made for his baby brother, having a hand in deciding his partner. It was empowering, at the same time it was deeply freighting. His actions would have consequences not just for Legolas but for the kingdoms that were joined by this bonding as well. This could potentially save or lose many lives. The amount of lives in the balance was devastating. A wrong choice in who was worthy of Legolas' hand could lead to a war between the elven kingdoms. The oldest prince realized that as much as he wished to pair Greenleaf with someone that could love him fully, it was not the top priority of any on the council. He counseled himself with the knowledge that often love was born of similar situations. Just because the bonded did not feel that way from the beginning did not mean that they would not grow to feel so. With a heavy sigh he picked up the scroll again and began to reiterate what he'd already seen.

0000

King Thranduil watched as his oldest contemplated the consequences of his actions. This was pleasing; Rië Treyol was starting to understand that what he decided held weight with the world. Not just the elven realms either, but the whole of Middle Earth. Times like these made Thranduil sad that his wife was not at his side to share in these joys, but the overwhelming pride he felt for his son quickly replaced his disappointment. She would have been so proud of their achievements, he could feel it in his bones. With a practiced ease that spoke of many years, the Mirkwood King unrolled another scroll that continued to extort the virtues of a 'Haldir, Marchwarden of Lothlórien.'

000

Elladan popped into another room, backing out quickly when a high shriek answered his intrusion. For the past three hours he'd been exploring the Mirkwood lands, hoping to locate his quarters. So far he'd no luck. He knew Rivendell backwards and forwards, and whenever he went out with his twin there were normally guards surrounding them, but at the chance to go discovering Elladan had given his twin the slip; hoping to find a quiet spot to show Elhoir later when the met up again. So far all he'd found was a kitchen, a library, sixteen bedrooms, eighteen closets and thirty-four freshing-up rooms. For some reason unknown to the Rivendell elf he'd been unable to find the guest wing. He was about to give up for the day and see if the kitchen was serving dinner yet.

000

Legolas couldn't sleep. No matter what he tried it evaded him. At first the room was too hot, so the prince tossed his covet off. Only a few minutes later to find the temperature had seemingly dropped to freezing. As he scrambled for the blanket, burrowing deeply into the depths of his bed it took the blonde elf thirty seconds to become overheated once more. With a loud sigh of displeasure he rolled out of bed, ready to find something to occupy his mind until it became cloudy with sleep once more.

Slipping past his guards was difficult, not impossible though, as he found out. There ought to have been more preventative measures against an elf escaping out the bathroom window, but as if was helping him, Legolas couldn't find it in his heart to really complain that much. Or at all. With a grunt, he landed on his arse. A true example of Mirkwood's finest.

The blonde was half way to the garden when he ran into someone. Unfortunately for his head, he literally bumped into the other elf.

"Oof" On his bum once more, Legolas blinked up at the towering figure before him.

The Marchwarden of Lothlórien, of course. Life wouldn't be complete if the prince weren't discovered by his arch nemesis. As his super power of exploding beings with a mere glare had yet to develop, Legolas was stuck with merely standing up and dusting himself off. It was a shame; Legolas felt that he could easily use his powers for good. The good of elves everywhere, no all of Middle Earth! Well, at the very least, his own good. After all, they were all the same were they not?

"And to what do I owe the displeasure of your rude presence?" Legolas all but growled, hardly in the mood to deal with such an elf.

000

To say that Haldir was shocked would have been an understatement. He could feel his jaw drop. Of all the pretentious elves he could possibly run into, it had to be the General's mate, Greenleaf. Probably sneaking off to go whoring. Haldir hardly held back his snort of disgust; he wasn't about to be caught up in this little one's web of deceit!

---

End Chapter


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